I Should Tell You
by ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: COWRITTEN WITH FAE [postRent] Feeling alone, Mark brews up the courage to confess his feelings for Maureen, but the next day neither of them remembers last night, when they discover each other in the same bed. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This fic is posted under my name but it is co-written with Fae (from Erik and Fae), so here is our first Rent fic APPLAUSE !**

**So this is how it was done- basically it is written from two POV's- Fae wrote Mark's POV and I wrote Maureen's. Though the hour differences worked mostly against us, we used RP's to do the dialogues and may God bless the internet for giving us the ability to do this thing!**

**Read and review, you guys! We'll be waiting!**

**I SHOULD TELL YOU**

Disclaimer- all Rent characters are the property of the late, great Jonathan Larson

**Chapter One**

"Open scene. Roger and Mark's apartment. We screen at March 2nd, 10PM... pan right, zoom in on Roger... Roger?"

Mark peered over his camera searching for his best friend, only to find the living room deserted. Funny, he thought, he was here a minute ago. He turned his camera off irritably, trying to avoid wasting film. He didn't have much left, he couldn't afford any more. Standing up, he called Roger's name again.

"What?" a voice called from a distance.

"Where'd you go?" asked Mark, wiping the lense with his sleeve.

Guitar strings echoed through the apartment. "In the bathroom."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You brought your guitar in with you?"

The tune to his new song, Your Eyes, played harmoniously in the air. It was a sweet melody dedicated to his beloved Mimi, who he could never stop talking about. Sometimes Mark wished he'd shut up about it.

"The acoustics are great in here," replied Roger. It didn't seem like he was coming out any time soon. The guitar strings continued to play.

Mark sighed loudly falling backwards on their three seat sofa. He took off his glasses hastily, feeling an itch of tiredness between his eyes. He rubbed them carefully, while trying to resist a well-deserved yawn. Not yet, he thought forcibly, I can't get tired yet. He still had some film to edit and sort out.

He placed his glasses over his deep blue gray eyes and turned his camera around so the lense would face him. He turned it on, reluctantly at first, then cleared his throat.

"Mark Cohen here, trying to figure out why my life is such a disgrace. Single, dumped by a lesbian, and AIDS-free, I lay here figuring out why I feel so left out." Oh God, thought Mark miserably, I don't even know what I'm saying. He sat up, switched scenes, and panned across the empty living room. "And here is my pitiful sanctuary. It isn't much...but it's home."

Suddenly the face of a handsome, rugged man appeared on the lense, his green eyes shining with happiness.

"You can see it in my eyes!" Roger sang smiling.

"_Now _you want your closeup," said Mark, putting his camera down. He rubbed his temples, trying to numb the pain inside them.

"Hey," said Roger putting a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Why don't you put your work on hold for a night and join me and Mimi for dinner?"

"It's okay, I'll be fine," he said. "You don't have to do that."

Roger became silent, almost as if he was lost for words. He arched his guitar, strumming random chords until they sounded into a familiar tune. He spoke, continuing to play.

"What the matter Mark?" he asked concerned.

"Nothing." Mark realized that he had answered that a bit too quickly, but it was too late.

"Come on Mark, don't hide it..."

"Roger, nothing's-"

"Don't make me sing it."

"What?"

"Tell the folks at home how you're feeling now, Mark?" he singsonged.

"Roger, this isn't a rock-opera!"

He stopped playing and mumbled a quick "sorry" before setting his instrument down. He sat next to his best friend, trying to decipher the depressed expression on his face. Mark tried not to look away, but he couldn't help feeling detached.

"What is it?" asked Roger lightly.

"I... I don't know. I guess..." He took a deep breath and said quietly. "I guess... I'm still not over her." Mark stood up, embarrassed of his confession. Roger followed him, placing a hand on his back.

"You know I love Maureen," affirmed Roger. "No matter how much I try not to, she's a disease. But I hate what she's doing to you. But you know the pain won't stop until _you _let go."

"I know," said Mark. He turned to Roger and saw a worried look in his eyes. He frowned. "Look if you don't mind, I'd like to finish up my work alone. And... I've got some thinking to do."

"Okay. I'll be out with Mimi." Roger slipped into his jacket and headed for the door. Before leaving, he mentioned. "Uhh... don't wait up."

Mark managed to crack a smile. "I won't."

Flashing him a grin, Roger walked out, closing the door as quietly as possible. As soon as the lock clicked, the familiar daunt of tormenting silence filled the room. So alone, so unwanted. That's how Mark felt. The silence became louder until he couldn't take it anymore. Even when no one was here, he couldn't get any peace and quiet.

He started to set up his projector, deciding to get some editing done before his troubles distracted his concentration. Opening their closet, he dug through boxes of old clothes, four year old screenplays, posters of bands unknown to this decade, sheet music, and who knows what. Finally finding what he was looking for, he hauled a box full of old film reels. Maybe I can find a reel of Collins, wondered Mark. He was planning to make a tribute for him and Angel, since the pain was still healing for everyone. He dragged the box into the living room which he had now turned into his personal editing room.

As he searched through his memories, he couldn't help but guess what each film reel contained. _Halloween_- ahh, when they toilet papered Benny's house only to experience his heat of revenge by turning off the heat a week later. _Roger's birthday_- he laughed. That was when him and Collins hired Bella the Belly Dancer for his surprise birthday party. Benny's wedding- that brought back painful remembering. This was when their dear friend betrayed them and married the evil queen, but paid their respects anyway. _Mark's 21st_- when they bought every alcohol known to New York and made him drink a bottle of each. That, Mark remembered, was not a pleasant sight. _May 16th_... May 16th?

What happened that day? Mark tried to remember, but nothing was coming to him. He hated himself for not giving it a proper title. May 16th? What was that?

He pondered about it for half an hour before actually giving in. He didn't think he should waste his time watching something he totally forgot about, but what the hell? He slid the reel in and watched it play.

**FILM REEL- MAY 16th**

A living room similar to theirs materialized onto the screen. The only differences were that there were more furniture, more color, more live activity, and the atmosphere seemed so much lighter. On their long sofa sat Roger, April, Benny, and Collins, and on the other side was another figure sprawled onto a leopard skinned love seat. Maureen.

Mark's voice came on. "May 16th, 11:45PM. We spend a quiet evening at home, celebrating the wonderful Maureen Johnson's birthday."

Close up on Maureen as she held a glass of champagne in one hand. "Just as I like it... just us."

Everyone laughed, and Collins spoke. "Maureen, your birthday was two days ago and you made a big show about it at the Life Cafי. We're just making up for lost time."

The camera zoomed in on Maureen and she smiled playfully. She pursed her lips and mouthed, "I love you pookie." Suddenly a voice came from behind the camera.

"Here, let me have a turn with it Mark," said Roger's voice.

"What? Do you have any experience?"

"You press a button. You move the camera around. What's there to know?"

"Would you let me touch your guitar?"

"You'd be dead before you touch his guitar," said April.

"That's right. Get! Come on, let me shoot you and Maureen."

"I hope you're not hiding a gun in that guitar case," joked Collins.

"You know what I mean." There was a short pause and Mark hesitantly handed him the camera. A younger looking Mark sat next to Maureen. She lifted her legs and laid it on top of his lap.

"So Mark what are you going to...ahem...give Maureen for her birthday?" asked Roger, as it zoomed in on the couple. Mark made a face as if he was trying not to turn red, and the others cooed and wooed.

"I've already given her a gift," remarked Mark.

"Woo!" the guys cheered on.

"Not that," cleared up Mark. The cheering died instantly and was replaced with fits of chuckles. Mark gazed at his girl lovingly, as if there wasn't any person on earth he'd spend his life with. He held her hand tight...

**END FILM REEL- MAY 16th**

Mark couldn't watch anymore. He knocked over the projector and the reel fell out of the slot messily. He couldn't bare it. He remembered that day clearly now; it was all so painfully clear. It was the day he had professed his love for Maureen. And he remembered that he couldn't stop saying it after he had said it once. His heart ached inside. He couldn't believe that she was finally gone- he never thought he'd see the day. He always thought that the videos, the footage would remind them of how happy they always were together, and yet they only hold burdens. Tears ran down his face. His heart felt so empty.

Well, he knew one way to mend an empty heart, and that was to fill it with alcohol. He had taken up drinking after she left, but only when he was alone. He never drank more than two bottles though, but as the days proceeded, he seem to have been consuming more and more, almost religiosuly. He made his way into their refrigerator and took a six-pack out. He dropped it on the floor of the living room, and laid against a wall as he helped himself to a drink.

He couldn't even look at another girl since Maureen. She was his first love, and she would always have that special place in his heart. And it seemed as if she still had that place in his heart, the place where when they were still in a relationship. Sure they had their fights. They were different, after all.

Was that it? Was it because they were so different? Because she was a gorgeous, luring seducer and he was New York's nerd of the year? But he always liked that about their relationship. Even though at sight, they were those type of people, they brought the best out of each other. She brought out of him a person he'd never expose. When he was with her, he felt like he could do anything, like he was wilder, took more risks. And she... she was calmer, sweeter, gentler. They brought out the best of each other. There was a time where he thought they were perfect for one another... Mark took another drink.

Four drinks or four hours or four days later (he couldn't keep up), Mark felt the urge to stand up. He couldn't let her do that to him. He couldn't let her hurt him again and again as she screwed around with her bitch. Hope... there had to be hope. After all this time, after all these feelings, after all the drinks, he knew that she just had to feel something between them. Maybe if he said those words again. Those three words that made her smile all the time. He made his way out the door, and onto the streets.

What if she hits me? Mark asked himself. Nah, she can't. It's me! It's Mark, she can't hit me. He pushed his glasses up and tried to catch his balance. Which way to Maureen's? West. Gotta go west. Dark, and a bit warm, he made his way to Maureen's apartment. Up the stairs... up, up, up, Mark almost laughed at himself as he tripped over every other step. He stopped at her door.

What if Joanne was in the apartment with her? He couldn't remember if she worked long days or long nights. He didn't dare knock on the door yet. What if he walked in and they were... they were... he couldn't even imagine it. How could she? How could she do this to him? How could she not know how much she meant to him?

He fell to his knees. Maybe this was fate. He couldn't control his destiny. There was nothing he could do if the fates were against him. The hallway light shone brightly, streaming straight down to his eyes. He squinted, and stared at the light. It started to flicker off and on, until it slowly died down to a dim. A few minutes later, the light died.

So this is how it is, thought Mark bitterly. Just like the light, our relationship was. Strong then flickered down to nothing. He bit his lip, and tasted the bittersweet liquid from the alcohol. Suddenly, he wished for more. He decided to go back when he realized he didn't know where he was going. The stairs seemed to have disappeared.

Well, he might as well do it now. He staggered to Maureen's door, and knocked lightly. The door opened slightly.

"Maureen-"

"Maureen is two doors down, hun, and what are you doing? It's the middle of the night!" a woman said.

"Sorry. I don't know what I'm doing. It's all right." The door closed and Mark stumbled two doors down. He knocked. No one answered. He scratched his blonde hair. He knocked again even louder this time, and leaned near the door, waiting for her to answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Maureen slowly opened her eyes. She looked around her, disoriented. Her bedroom was completely dark, except from a faint pink glow from an outside billboard, that flickered brightly through the fire escape. She didn't even realize she fell asleep. Her head was throbbing so bad, she was sure it was about to burst into small pieces.

Moaning in pain and frustration, Maureen rolled herself over to check what time it was. Her eyes widened in shock when the clock's red digits glowed 11:30 PM. She took it from the bedside and gave it a shake to make sure it was working. It did. Damn, she had slept for hours!

She dragged herself tiredly out of bed and hauled her body into the bathroom. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to work that morning- her favorite tight blue jeans and an even tighter red tank-top. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and stared at it with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Was that her? Her hair was a mess of long, dark brown curls, her make-up was in even worse shape, and a trail of tears was visible against her brown mascara, hastily wiped from so many hours before.

"Oh, shit," she muttered under her breath and splashed some cold water on her face in a hopeless attempt to make herself look better. She was sure that her eyes looked bulged like a bullfrog's eyes. She was not amused by that thought.

On her way out of the bathroom she stumbled over something and fell flat on the carpeted bedroom floor. She let out a cry of pain followed by a nasty curse, and grasped the damn object that stood in her way. It was one of Joanne's stylish and very exspensive black leather stiletto shoes. Maureen threw the shoe angrily to the other side of the room, yelling some more nasty curses in the process. She heard it land somewhere but didn't really care.

She could not believe Joanne did that. She simply couldn't. No one dumped Maureen Johnson, what made Joanne think that SHE could! Yet, she did, Maureen reminded herself bitterly, as she got up from the floor. Damn, how could she?

Maureen stormed into the small living-room and dropped herself on the couch. She snatched the remote and turned the TV on. What she needed, she decided, was a good distraction from Joanne; from their breakup.

My God, BREAKUP!

_The Wizard of Oz_ was playing. Maureen snorted her discontent. Even the TV went against her! It was Joanne's favorite film, and she used to call Maureen the Wicked Witch of the West from time to time. It became one of her many nicknames. She was lost in that memory for a split second before the afternoon's events came back to her in a flash. Even if she DID act as a wicked witch at times, was THAT a good enough reason to end it up so abruptly as Joanne did!

I became A LESBIAN for her, thought Maureen angrily. What was she THINKING, breaking up with ME! It made her even more furious because they had couple of good, uncluttered months, at least in Maureen's opinion. Yes, they had their ups and downs once in a while, but what couple hasn't? Was I the only one who felt that way? Maureen asked herself that question endless times as she cried herself to sleep earlier. She asked herself the same question now, as she gazed absentmindedly at the TV screen. That was why Joanne's sudden decision was so unpredictable. They were finally getting along and now…

Joanne didn't even give her a chance to protest. She had made up her mind, she said. She had enough, she was leaving, and that was final. She seemed to be so sure about her decision, so calm that it made Maureen even more furious.

She remembered the first night they met. She stormed out of the loft after having a nasty fight with Mark about her downtown gigs. It was the first time he ever raised his voice on her. Usually, she did the screaming and yelling, and he just stared at her, as passive and as hopeless as a rock. Roger was nowhere to be found of course, and Collins was out of town, so it was just the two of them, screaming at one another like crazy, until Maureen decided that she had enough and left. She wandered through the streets with no specific purpose or destination, and the only thing that made her stop was a flickering sign of a recently opened club. Of course, she wanted to go there ever since she read about it in the weekend's paper, but stupid Mark wouldn't go. He hated these places, so crowded with people and cigarette smoke. She snorted as his nerdy image popped in front of her eyes. What am I even doing with a guy like that, she thought. Sure, he was sweet, in his own dorkish way, and awfully romantic, but they were so different.

Surprisingly, it was Joanne who made the first step. Maureen noticed her when she got in. Maureen chose a high stool near the bar, but didn't pay much attention to her as she ordered a martini and lighted a cigarette from the only packet she still carried in her huge black leather bag for emergencies such as that. She looked approximately 10 years older than Maureen, in her mid 30s, in a very expensive suit. Soon she was sitting next to Maureen, who wasn't in the mood for talking to strangers, not to mention flirting. It was not an unusual situation for her, flirting with another woman. They always found her attractive, and she flirted back because she knew it made Mark insanely jealous. She found insanely jealous Mark quite adorable.

So Joanne introduced herself and bought Maureen another drink, and before she realized what she was doing, she started telling Joanne things she had never told anybody, not even herself. She wasn't use to making confessions, especially not confessions concerning her and Mark's relationship. Yet, Joanne was a good listener, probably something that came with her lawyer apprenticeship. She spent the night at Joanne's place, and when she came back to the loft the next morning, she and Mark acted as if nothing ever happened. She started leading her double life, living with Mark and having a secret affair with Joanne, until two months later she told him the truth. She was a lesbian, and she had a new girlfriend, and she was leaving, for good. She didn't give Mark much chance to digest the whole thing, and just left the next day.

Just like Joanne did that afternoon, she realized.

More tears. Maureen could feel them streaming down her face but she didn't bother to wipe them away. She felt sorry for herself. She was not used to be on the dumped side. She didn't like it much. She hated feeling miserable and hopeless. She couldn't think of anything else but that afternoon. Her conversation with Joanne, which was more Joanne's monologue, she corrected herself, still echoed mercilessly in her ears. Damn it, how COULD she?

She suddenly realized that she was starving. She met Collins for a quick lunch earlier at their favorite little Chinese restaurant, but it seemed like hundreds of years had passed since then. She made herself a mental note to call Collins later. Sweet Collins. Her features softened slightly as she thought of her friend. He'd understand, she just knew that he would. He always understood her, always stood beside her when they all still lived together. It was long before Angel, or Mimi… or Joanne.

There was nothing edible in the fridge, except from some silly healthy yogurt thingies that Joanne took interest in lately. Maureen just igored them as she considered her other very limited options for a late dinner. She didn't feel like eating the leftovers from her lunch with Collins. She didn't feel creative enough to actually cook something, either. Her gaze wandered up to a pizza-place magnet on the freezer's door. She snatched it triumphantly and was about to close the fridge's door when...

It was than when she noticed the vodka bottle that was hidden behind some milk that had been expired for ages.

Maureen hesitated, looking thoughtfully at the bottle, and then left the magnet on the kitchen counter and took the bottle out of the fridge. After taking an aspirin for her massive headache she came back to the living room, armed with the vodka bottle and a tall glass.

The film kept playing. Maureen raised its volume to the highest peak in a wishful thinking that the singing would drown her thoughts. Yet, the soundtrack was against her as well; the scarecrow looked straight at her while he was merrily singing If I Only Had a Brain. She snorted and threw a pillow at the TV screen. Even the stupid MGM scarecrow was mocking her, she thought miserably, absorbed in self pity.

She took her first sip, straight from the bottle. The alcohol burnt its way down her throat, yet she couldn't care less.

What was wrong with her? Clearly, SOMETHING was wrong, or Joanne wouldn't have left. And she already worked on changing all the things that Joanne didn't like in her to make their relationship work, so what was left? She quit smoking (actually she did that earlier, when she and Mark were still 'a thing', so it didn't really count), she stopped hanging out in crummy bars, she stopped flirting with beautiful mysterious strangers… It just couldn't be that!

Then, a new startling thought hit her and made her empty half a bottle in one long gulp, as if it was diet coke.

What if Joanne was seeing someone else?…

Worse than that… what if she was seeing that someone else… when she was still with Maureen?…

The phone's sudden ring put an abrupt ending to that thought and made Maureen nearly jump off the couch with a start. She let it ring until the answering machine took over.

"Hi, you reached Mo and Jo, please leave your message and we'll be back to you. Have a really nice day!" _BEEEEP…._

The recorded message brought fresh tears to Maureen's eyes. Joanne was going to make her record that boring, ordinary message, in case that her boring ordinary lawyer buddies ever called. They never did, but Maureen agreed to change her usually much-more-crazy message just to satisfy Joanne….

And NOW she was DUMPED!

"Joanne, hey," said an unfamiliar female voice. Maureen tensed. Her eyebrows knitted together in a suspicious frown. Who the hell is THAT? "This is Daisy, from Legal B in case you forgot… um… you're not available on your cell so I thought… oh, never mind, I'll just call later," she added quickly before she hung up. The machine beeped again. Maureen stared at its flickering red light in disbelief. Was that Daisy Joanne's new lover?…

_Collins_, she thought as she snatched the reciever of the wireless phone, _I have to talk with him_. She dialed his familiar number with shaky fingers. She wasn't even aware of that fact, or of how much alcohol she consumed already. She wasn't aware of anything. Two more sips of vodka and endless dial beeps later, Collins' machine took over. Maureen closed her eyes in frustration and felt the burn of her tears as they made contact with her skin as she listened to Collins' recorded message. Even in that message his voice was comforting, soothing like the voice of the big guarding brother that Maureen never had. It was then when she remembered that Collins left for Chicago right after their lunch. He told her he'd be there on a seminar for the entire weekend, and that he wouldn't be available on his cell, either.

The machine's long _BEEEP_ snapped her back to reality, or something that was just as close to it. Her voice was husky from sleep, alcohol and hours of crying as she cleared her throat and started speaking.

"Hey Collins, it's me, I… totally forgot about that damn seminar, shit. I need to talk, and it's kinda important, I…" she held back a sob, but couldn't do it for much longer. "I'm falling apart… I can't…" she was weeping uncontrolably into the reciever. She knew he'd freak out when he heard it, he'd probably run all the way to her apartment to make sure she didn't do anything stupid like… slitting her wrists in the bathroom or something… yet at the moment, she didn't care. She had to let it out. And if Collins wasn't there to listen, his machine would do. She sniffed. "So just… call me when you get back, okay? Any time, I don't care," she added weakly and hung up. She threw the phone to the other side of the couch and burried her head in a pillow in despair. She felt so alone and deserted all of a sudden, as if she was the only soul on the planet, and a desperate soul, of all things.

She was about to take another sip from the bottle when she realized that it was empty. She cursed loudly and let it go. It rolled off the couch and fell noiselessly on the carpet but didn't break.

It was Maureen's heart that was slowly breaking, for the first time in her life.

She needed another drink, but could not even bring herself to a sitting position. Yet, she HAD to have another drink. She didn't want to think about Joanne anymore, or about that stupid Daisy-what's-her-name from Legal B. If a boring wannabe lawyer was what Joanne wanted, then it was fine by Maureen. She probably deserved that, some serious, boring, ORDINARY woman, just like Joanne herself.

I don't need her, she decided. I don't need her seriousness, or her silly healthy yogurt thingies in my fridge, or her arrogant lawyer attitude. I'm Maureen Johnson, I need no one, I'm practically perfect!

The Wicked Witch of the West sent her winged monkeys to chase poor Judy Garland. Maureen stared at her drunkenly and tried to imitate her evil laughter. She thought she did quite a good job, but who knew? She couldn't even sit straight at the moment, so thinking straight seemed to be even more out of the question.

Someone knocked on her door. Maureen jumped, startled. At first, she thought she was imagining it. The film's volume was still on max and she was so disoriented at the moment, she could no longer tell what was real and what wasn't. Yet whoever it was, he knocked again, more urgently. Louder. He practically banged on her door. Maureen's heart was racing, more with pathetic hope and with panic. Could it be Joanne?…

Somehow she managed to get herself up from the couch. She fought a wave of dizziness and nausea and went on swaying bare feet to open the door.

She surely wasn't expecting to see an even drunker Mark leaning dorkishly on her doorway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Mark's vision was filled with three Maureens, standing behind the doorway, her hair in tangles, and her eyes shot... but he still loved her either way. He coughed, the taste of alcohol climbing back from his throat.

"Mark?" She looked at him, surprised. She took a step back, observing him. "What are you doing here?"

Mark's head suddenly spun 80 miles per hour, and for some reason, he thought that it was Maureen at his doorstep.

"Maureen... Maureen, what are...?" He stumbled forward, as if his head weighed a ton and started to fall forward. He muffled the rest of his sentence incoherently. Maureen caught him before he crashed to the floor, and he held on to her shoulders.

"Hey, hey careful," she said. His feet shuffled a bit, and they both made their way inside. He kept his balance by holding on to her, and the only place he could look was down. It felt like he was going to throw up. For a minute, he lost all knowledge.

"Are you drunk Mark?" she asked.

He found this terribly funny. "Drunk?" It was funny coming out of anybody's mouth because he was the last person they'd ever figure to be drunk. "Me? Okay, maybe I had a drink... or two... or three hundred." He tried to look at her. He blinked a coupe of times, but he couldn't get his vision to focus even with his glasses on. Trying to focus on one of the three Maureens, he found a way for words. "Maureen, I've got something to tell..." His weight shifted abruptly. In a low murmur he managed to speak. "I don't feel too hot."

She grappled getting him across the room, Mark almost crawling on his knees to keep on moving. Taking him to the couch, Mark's vision finally cleared up a bit. As he landed on her couch, he noticed an irritating cackle in the background. The Wicked Witch appeared on the screen. Maureen put the television on mute, and the witch animatedly pantomime on screen. Mark closed his eyes. I feel like shit, he thought woefully.

"You don't happen to have one of those drinks with you, by chance? I could use one..." her voice trailed off hoarsely, and Mark wondered if she had a couple of drinks too.

"No more," answered Mark holding his arms up, as if showing that he had none with him. "None... Maureen... I have to..." He froze suddenly. He had just remembered something. He almost laughed at himself. He actually remembered something. "Shh..." He put a finger to his lips. "Listen."

Maureen gave him a wide-eyed look. "What?"

He paused waiting for any sign... any sound. "Joanne. She's here, isn't she?"

She snorted suddenly, as if annoyed. "Why should SHE be here? It's my apartment, not hers, why should she be here? I don't need her! I never did!" She grabbed him by the collar and shook him, his head bobbing up and down. It felt like a hammer was banging on his head. "It's MY apartment, Mark, MY life! My goddamn life! And don't you ever forget it!"

He stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder. He was surprised to see such a wild reaction, and he stared at her cautiously. When she had ceased, he waited for a few moments silence. Then he said, "Shh. She'll hear you."

She swiped his hand off. "Don't you touch me!" She suddenly started to cry out of the blue. Mark sat up, taken back by her outbursts. He didn't remember ever seeing Maureen cry, not even when they broke up. Her cries seemed to have grown louder by the minute, and Mark became scared. It felt like he was hurting her through with an invisible sword.

"I'm sorry! God would you shut up?" He panicked. "I'm SORRY. Sorry for everything I've done, or haven't done, or should have done."

He wanted to pull his hair out. He was getting so frustrated. He didn't know what else to do, but apologize. "Is this what you want, Maureen? Me always giving in to you?" He stood up rubbing the back of his neck. He felt cold sweat on his palm. "I can't do anything right, can I? I'm always the one who had to make YOU happy and there isn't a single moment where I can get some peace and quiet!" In his heat and excitement, he stubbed his foot at the coffee table. "Damnit!"

Pain struck, and he stooped over to hold the pain in place. Maureen had stopped crying somewhere between his monologue. She stared at him silently. Feeling the eyes of the world upon him, he couldn't continue. It felt as if she was waiting for him to mess up, to make a remark that she would bark down. He stopped in his tracks, and changed subjects.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked hopelessly.

Her face trembled, as if she was to cry again. "Joanne... she..."

Mark looked at her intently. She seemed really hurt. He hated seeing her this way. "Did she hurt you?"

She snorted again. "Huh, I'd say." She suddenly got up and walked to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards for something. He followed her with his eyes, a bit upset that she didn't give him an actual reply. "What did she do? Damnit Maureen, answer me! Please..."

She slammed a cupboard door, and pounded a closed fist on the counter. "DAMN! I don't have any damn drinks in this damn house! I hate it!" She came out, one hand buried in her face, and the other hand held a saucer. "I hate this apartment!" She threw the saucer like a frisbee and it shattered against the wall. "I hate my life! I hate it, hate it, hate it..."

Mark watched in horror as she dropped to the floor, crying hysterically. He couldn't believe what he was seeing: Maureen Johnson finally breaking in front of his eyes. He gazed at her, a bit frightened. He had never seen her like this before. He went over to her and knelt beside her.

"Stop crying," he said softly. He just wanted her to stop. He wanted her to smile. He gave in again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I just- I don't know what the hell is going on. Please tell me what's going on, maybe I can help."

She tried to control her tears and sobs enough to speak, but she stuttered a bit. "She... dumped me... we broke up..." She broke away from their stare, like she couldn't stand looking at him.

He rubbed her back gently. "Hey...hey, you've two split up before...I'm sure she'll be back." He was stung by his own words. Why did he always hope for the best?

She shook her head vigorously, her cries still audible. "Not this time... she's coming tomorrow to take her stuff and I...oh, DAMNIT!" She started all over again.

Mark had run out of ideas. It felt as if everything he was saying was just making it worse. Maybe this was why she broke up with him. He was such a failure.

"Maureen...Maureen, I.." His voice trailed off. He was lost, couldn't think of a word to say. He didn't want to say he was sorry again, especially because it wasn't his fault. He was also afraid that the word had lost all meaning because he had said it so many times. He brewed up some courage. "She...she really meant that much to you?" He almost choked on his words. He couldn't believe he said it.

She avoided eye contact. She didn't answer him for a while, as she looked for the right words to say. "I...don't..know," she said truthfully. Mark observed her carefully as she brought her eyes to his. She looked at him fixedly, and an affection glaze reflected in her eyes. "I guess she did..." She took a deep breath. "I guess... you never realize how much something... someone... means to you... until you lose them."

Mark can feel her presence so close to his. They had moved closer to each other, and she was whispering lowly, yet he was still able to hear her. Their eyes locked, and he couldn't help but become mesmerized by her eyes. She had the most beautiful hazel eyes that glistened in her tears. Carefully, he touched her face softly.

"I know," he whispered. "I know... you meant a lot to me." He couldn't fight it. He just had to look away. It hurt too much.

"Mark...Mark look at me," she said earnestly.

"No," he murmured. He stood up, looking down. "No. No Maureen, I can't take it anymore. You're tearing me apart... and we're not even together! When will it stop?" He had raised his voice a bit, but he wasn't yelling. He was just hurt.

She stood up behind him, and whispered, "What are you talking about?"

Mark felt a well-known emotion riding over him. It was of confusion, frustration, heartache. He walked toward her window. "Ever since you broke up with me, it's like I've still held on. I tried to convince myself that you'd still come back, that you're in some sort of... phase. That's what so great about this camera."

He walked over and retrieved his camera from the couch. He walked back to the window. "You can pretend. You can look at the world through eyes you can create." He turned it on and switfly points it at the girl across the room. "And I've always thought you and me... me and you... who am I kidding?"

Mark looked through his recorder and saw Maureen approach, her image becoming larger and larger, until she put the camera down herself.

"Don't," she persisted. "Please don't hide behind that damn camera anymore, stop pretending everything's okay, when it's not." She touched his shoulder. "Let's just talk. Okay? Like adults? No screaming and yelling."

Again, Mark found this situation funny. Maureen acted as if she was mature and actually serious about talking out their problems, which he knew was strange, even for her. He set his camera on the floor.

"You really are drunk." He started to giggle, until it grew into fits of laughter.

"I am...SO DRUNK!" she laughed along with him. Mark shook his head, whether he was shaking his head of embarassment, or to nod off the ringing in his head, he didn't know. She did a funny little dance, which he thought was cute, and she toppled on the floor.

Mark laughed. "Wait, wait, where's my camera?" He tried to find it, but the room started to spin all of a sudden. He didn't notice that it was at the foot of him. The ringing became louder. "Oh fuck... Maureen do you have any aspirin?"

He fell beside her, his hand to his head, as Maureen laughed. "Yeah...somewhere in the kitchen...I how I hate this part."

She pointed at the television and Mark looked. The Wicked Witch of the West was melting in a puddle of green goo.

"I wish I could do the same right now," she said. "Do you think I can?"

Mark tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "Melt? You use to make me melt." His head throbbed. He stood up groggily and made his way to her kitchen. "Where did you say it was again?"

She followed him unsteadily. "I dunno... it was there... somewhere." She laid her head against the refrigerator door. Mark thought she fell asleep until she bursted outward.

"Hey! Do you want some pizza?" She took the pizza magnet from the refrigerator. "I'm starving!"

"Hungry?" asked Mark wackily. "How the hell can you be hungry? I feel like I'm gonna vomit." His eyes trained to a tray of bottles and medication. His hand rummaged through every bottle. "Here... I think I found it."

He picked up a small tablet bottle from the tray. He shook it near his ear. "Sounds like aspirin." He tried opening it with no luck. "Children's cap. Do they ever think of the adults trying to open one of these things?" He magically clicked it open. "Ha ha! Got it open!" He did a flex and offered Maureen one.

"Better make it double," she said, and moaned. "My head is about to explode." She keeled over to the floor.

Mark grabbed her by the arm and pulled. "Don't sit there, it's dirty." He took some aspirin before offering it again to Maureen. "Here... it's just as good as alcohol and it makes the pain go away."

She looked at him skeptically. "Does it?"

"It better."

"And what do you mean by _dirty_?" She stood up agitated and moved to the living room. "Are you saying my apartment is DIRTY?"

He smiled at this inquiry, and followed her, dropping the bottle. He approached her at a steady pace. "Well, hey... a dirty whore living in a dirty house. Makes sense doesn't it?" He didn't realize his slip, but said it as if they were having a casual conversation.

"Is that what you think I am?" she commanded radically.

"I don't know," he answered. "What else do you call someone whose slept with every guy in town, and now is screwing around with other girls? What now? You gonna screw the neighbor's dog next?"

Before he knew it, Maureen slapped him across the face. A sting pounded in his cheek. Mark placed a hand where she hit him.

"Screwing around Mark? If that why you came here?" she demanded. "Would you mind explaining to me what the hell you're doing here in my apartment? It's the middle of the fucking night! Do you want to get screwed up again? Was that what you were hoping for?"

Mark bit his lip. "Maybe that's what I want." He stood over her, trying to retaliate verbally. "Maybe I thrive on your damn pain, Maureen. Maybe, I yearn for your pain. Just maybe getting any shit from you, even if it IS pain, is something that I want, that I need, just as long as it's from you."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "It's been a year Mark, a goddamn year, get the fuck over it!"

"I can't Maureen!" he screamed. "I can't- damnit I don't even know what the hell is wrong with me. What the hell IS wrong with me, Maureen?" He was asking her sincerely, gravely. "Why did you leave me?"

"Mark..." she sighed. "I don't want to sound cliche, I really don't, but... it really wasn't you. You were the sweetest guy any girl could wish for. But unfortunately, I'm not any girl. And I wanted... no, I NEEDED more. I needed someone who was more like me. At the time, I thought Joanne WAS the one... I'm not sure if she is now." She walked over to the couch, stumbling a bit, and sat down. She cried into her hands, silently. "I'm not sure of anything now."

He felt absolutely heartbroken. He didn't know if this was how it was when they broke up. He doubt it. She was with someone before he got the chance to blink. She didn't go through the pain like he did. And now she was experiencing the same ache he once did with her. And it was the worse feeling in the world. He went over to the couch and hugged her close.

"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" he asked. "I could have been more. I would have done anything to make you happy."

"I'm not sure if it was something you could do. I'm fucked up Mark. It's not your fault. You should find a nice girl, a girl like you." I don't want a girl like me, thought Mark furiously. She continued. "Forget about me, I don't want to mess you up as well. One messed up person is enough."

He ran his fingers through her hair, and let her cry on his blue flannel shirt. "That's the beauty of us. I can't believe you don't see that. Angel and Collins weren't exactly alike and..." he stopped at the mention of Angel. He pulled away from her. "I just wanted to make you happy. Here. Let's get you cleaned up. I didn't bring any extra clothes." He chuckled a bit, feeling the warm tears soak through his clothes.

She smiles through the tears. "It's hopeless...I'm a mess, look at me." She tugged on his blue shirt. "I hate this shirt, by the way."

"Really? You bought it for me."

She looked at him confused. "Did I?"

"You said it brought out my eyes." He laughed, and reminisced.

"I probably did...because...it's so...well, you." She laughed softly. "I've always loved your eyes, you know."

He raised his eyebrows, then smiled. "Thanks. Feel better?" He wiped her tears with his thumb. She smiled.

"No, I don't," she cuddled beside him, her head rested on his chest. "But I'm glad you're here... I might have done something stupid if you weren't..."

Her voice trailed off, but he finished her thought in his mind. He knew somehow that she might have been thinking of April.

"You're okay," comforted Mark, and he looked into her eyes once again. He couldn't help himself falling into them. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Shortly after, he pulled away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

She didn't respond right away. She touched his lower lip, her gaze never leaving his. She whispered to him. "Yes you did."

"Maureen I still..." He took a gulp, his nerves running wild, but he tried to stay calm. "I still love you."

"Shh," and she came closer to kiss him. Caught off guard, he let her sink into the kiss, until he gave in and kissed her back. Their lips caressed, one on top of the other, as he stroke her face gently. He pulled away after a moment. It felt as if they were back together.

"We can't do this," he said softly. Although he would do anything to have her, he knew this was wrong.

She was breathless, and her cheeks were a slight red, but she smiled a bit. "And why the hell not?"

He looked at her, and smirked. "Hello? Lesbian."

Her eyes began to fill with tears again. "I don't even know who I am anymore." She pulled away and scooted over so she was as far away from him as possible. She looked away, in embarrassment. "But you're probably right. You better go now, Mark. Before we do something that we both regret tomorrow."

It was strange being dismissed by Maureen Johnson this way. Okay, the being dismissed part wasn't strange. But the fact that she was doing it for their own good was strange. But Mark didn't realize it right away. He just felt an inkling about it. He stood up, and reluctantly obeyed her command. He walked toward the door. Feeling dismayed, he laid his head against the wall. No, he thought, this time it's my turn. He turned around.

"I have an idea," he said slyly, and strode over to Maureen. He offered his hand.

She took it, and got up, confused. "What?"

He pecked her hand gently, and lead her to her open bedroom, which he had spotted when he arrived.

"Why don't I spend the night?" he said seductively. He didn't even recognize his own voice.

"Why WOULD you spend the night?" she asked. Her tone became serious. "I don't think it's a good idea. I don't want to hurt you again Mark."

He directed her near her doorway, and looked at her. She was beautiful. She looked inside her bedroom hesitantly.

"If we go in there, I will... and I hate doing this all over again."

He waited for her to enter, a curve forming on his lips. "Would you just shut up for once..." He pulled her close, her waist touching his. "...and get in there?"

He pulled away a bit, and placed a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

She walked in gradually, and he followed behind her. He then looked at her knavishly, and she met him halfway through a passionate kiss. As Mark held her face with one hand, he closed the door with the other. Every where else in the apartment became quiet, empty, except for Mark's camera hidden behind the curtain of Maureen's window, as it blinked a luminous red.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It was still quite early when Maureen woke up the next morning to the sound of wind chimes that clanged happily in the morning's light breeze. She loved their sound, but hated when it woke her so early on weekends, so she just hung them outside on the fire escape so that their sound would bother her less. She was too lazy to take them off on weekends and put them back on when its over, so she still woke up to their sound but stayed in bed until she was ready to face the new day. That worked fine, so far. And also that morning.

It was still a little chilly from last night's rain but Maureen was not at all cold. On the contrary, she felt kind of cozy. She stretched like a cat and closed her eyes, stealing another moment of sleep. Something felt soft and warm against her naked body and she snuggled closer to it. It was pounding straight into her ear and she couldn't help but wonder when her mattress got itself a heartbeat. Then she realized there was something between her and her mattress. Her eyes snapped open when it dawned on her what was that something.

A chest. A male's chest.

And now, with her eyes wide open, she also realized that she knew the small blonde hairs on that chest. Yet she couldn't understand what was MARK doing in her bed. She raised her head from his chest to take a better look, which only confirmed her suspicions. It WAS Mark. He was sleeping peacefully, like the wind chimes didn't even bother him. She loved watching him sleep when they were still together. He looked even more childish and innocent than he usually did. It always made her smile. It made her feel protected, for a strange reason. Even now, when she had no idea what he was doing there. She silently observed him, as if for the first time, with a critical eye. His blonde hair was falling softly on his closed eyes. He needed a shave, she told herself. One of his arms was burried in her hair, his other arm was draped around her waist, holding her close.

What the hell was going on?

Maureen sat in bed, pulling the sheets with her as she did, and looked around the room with utter confusion. Suddenly she was wide awake, and slightly panicked, for she couldn't remember a single thing from the night before. There was a trail of their clothes that started near the closed door and ended at the foot of her bed with Mark's blue shirt. She stared at them but they told her nothing. She remembered fragmets of things, like being dumped by Joanne… the Wicked Witch of the West… an aspirin bottle that wouldn't open…

Oh, shit.

She bent to pick up Mark's shirt from the floor since it was the closest, and put it on. She tried to ignore the racing rhythm of her heart as the familiar fabric of Mark's shirt made contact with her bare skin. His aftershave tickled her nostrils. It reminded her of soap and rain, and so many other things that were Mark, and as much as she tried to deny it, it reminded her of them.

Carefully, so she wouldn't wake him, Maureen crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, yawning. Her headache was still buzzing in her ears. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicions again- she looked like the devil's wife herself. Her face was clean with make-up by now, but her eyes were red and puffy as a result of long hours of crying. She splashed more water on her face to make the puffiness go away, and tried to do something with her hopeless hair that fell on her face in long uncontrolable curls. Coffee, she thought. I need coffee. That was the only coherent thought she could manage to have at the moment, as she walked down the hall.

She made herself coffee and headed for the living-room, for she didn't dare going back to bed. What she had seen made her stop dead in her track. Her living-room was totally messed up. She looked around her, completely shocked. The TV was still on, and there was broken glass everywhere. She maneuvered her steps carefully between broken china and tables of unknown medication until she got to her couch and dropped herself on it, coffee mug in hand. She leaned back, staring at the mute cartoons on the screen. She tried to recreate the previous night's events by what she had known so far. The clothes, the broken china, the medication… she couldn't decipher their meaning. Nothing fit with anything.

She sipped her coffee but it was still too hot and burnt her tongue. She cursed silently and put the mug on the coffee table.

Why was Mark Cohen, her long ago ex, in her bed?

From the corner of her eye she suddenly caught the flickering red light of the answering machine. She snorted. She remembered THAT part, she thought bitterly as she clicked the 'erase' bottom to wipe the memory of Daisy-what's-her-name from Legal B off her answering machine, her mind, her life. Okay, she encouraged herself. So that message, and the message you left Collins on his answering machine. How the hell was Mark part of that picture?

Maureen sipped her coffee slowly, thoughtfully, as if doing it would help her remember. Why this hangover all of a sudden? Do I even have any alcohol here? Whatever it was, she knew that hours of crying over Joanne didn't do much help either. Yet even though she had that massive headache that wouldn't let go, in a strange way Maureen felt strong, complete, at ease with herself. The initial shock of her and Joanne's breakup had subsided, faded within her with the rest of the alcohol.

Yes, she decided. She felt better than she did the previous day. For a moment, she wasn't even bothered by the very bothersome fact of Mark sleeping in her bed.

"All right… I'm trying not to panic, but… what the hell did you do to me last night?"

Maureen's calmness disappeared the second she heard his voice, hoarse from sleep. She turned to face Mark, who wore nothing but his Charlie Brown boxers. She was silent for a second, taking his appearance in. His blonde hair was still tousled from sleep and he ran his fingers through it, as if he knew that. His expression, though only half waken, was as confused as his tone. Reality hit Maureen back when she suddenly realized that he was still waiting for her explanation. She didn't miss the accusation his tone carried. She could feel her calmness fading away. Her eyes narrowed. Now she was annoyed.

"What did I do to YOU?" she repeated, slowly. Mark nodded weakly. "May I remind you that it was YOU who was found in MY bed?" She was becoming more furious by the second. The only thing she could think of was, how dare he blame ME for that?

"Then what are YOU doing with my shirt?" Mark shot back, his eyebrows raised.

"I was a little cold when I woke up," said Maureen defensivly. Why the hell was he answering a question with a question? That was the oldest trick in the book, that was HER trick! And he was stealing it! Mark just gave her a skeptical and irritated look, as if he didn't believe what she had just said.

"There's coffee in the kitchen, if you're interested," she added dryly. He didn't deserve to be treated nicely, but he was obviously as wasted as she was, if not worse.

Mark nodded. "Don't you have your own clothes to strech out?" he mumbled as he walked to the kitchen. Maureen thought that she was probably not supposed to hear it but she did. She frowned but said nothing. She followed him to the kitchen and watched him as he took some coffee. For a split second, it felt like old times again.

"Shit… it feels like I was hit by a Pepsi truck…" he closed his eyes in frustration and leaned against her fridge.

Maureen couldn't do much but agree with him. "Yeah, tell me about it…" she chuckled. He opened his eyes to look at her and she found herself drowning in them. She couldn't let herself do THAT, she had to figure out what he was doing there. She turned her gaze away.

"What… exactly… happened… last night?" she asked carefully. The situation was clearly embarrassing for both of them. She couldn't control the blush that rose in her cheeks. She hoped Mark would be too confused to even notice it.

He didn't. "How should I know?" he spat hastily and closed his eyes again, as if in pain. "This is your apartment," he remarked, "why don't you tell ME?" It was so unlike Mark to speak to her like that, but she didn't have much time pondering over that at the moment. Instead, she had to fight back.

And thank goodness, a piece of a memory was finally in her favor. It was an image of Mark leaning drunkenly on her doorway. She shot him a glare that was both accusing and victorious.

"One thing I DO remember is you, Mark, coming in here drunk in the middle of the night, so maybe it's not up to me to give the explanations here!"

He looked horror stricken by what she had said. He closed his eyes again and his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he tried to remember. Few moments later he opened his eyes and let out a desperate sigh. "Honestly, Maureen, all I can remember is having a few drinks at home… everything else is blank," he said quietly. He took his coffee mug and headed back into the living-room. Maureen quickly followed. She was about to say something when he turned to look at her, his expression serious. "I don't even want to think about what might have happened…" his voice trailed off. He looked away. He moved to sit on the couch and carefully sipped his coffee. Maureen stood there for a second, trying to interpret why he stopped.

"What?" she asked eventually as she moved to sit beside him. She didn't trust herself to sit too close though. It seemed like they both needed their distance. "Mark, what might have happened?" she repeated, in case he missed it in the first place.

"Maureen, don't act stupid, don't act like you don't know," he snapped at her.

She stared at him, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm in my fucking boxers, Maureen!" said Mark, his tone raising irritatebly. "It's simple addition, put two and two together! What do you THINK happened last night?" He looked at her as if she was a five-year-old. She hated that arrogant look. Joanne used to have that look sometimes, as if she knew everything about everything. It made Maureen feel so small and superficial. She felt like slapping him. Slapping?… Did I…

"Is it before or after I slapped you for being an asshole?" she asked coldly. She shook herself mentally for not remembering that before. It was practically her winning card in that fight. She saw it so clearly before her now. Her eyes were drilling into his, burning with anger. She was satisfied to notice that fear took hold on his expression, joining his confusion. He couldn't remember. Maureen snorted. As more and more glimpses of information were coming back to her, she was certain that what happened the previous night was not her fault. It wasn't much, but it was enough. "YOU came here, YOU were drunk, and YOU were in that fucking bed when I woke up!" she shouted.

Mark was still staring at her. He looked so pathetic, she almost felt sorry for him. "When did you slap…" he started, but soon his voice trailed off, probably because he realized how useless it was, since he couldn't remember it anyway. He let out a frustrated sigh and moved to sit on the coffee table so he could face her. "Maureen, I don't remember shit, I really don't." By the look in his eyes, she knew that he meant it, too. She guessed he was embarrassed, probably upset as well.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he added suddenly, sounding terrified. He looked deeply into her eyes. Maureen felt herself drowning in them again, so she looked away.

"Your words did, a little," she admitted, glancing at him. His expression was serious and concerned. It made her features soften, along with her tone. "How is it even possible that we both can't figure yesterday night out? I mean… look at this place!" she looked around her. She turned off the TV and went over to the other side of the room, where the broken china was. She bent to collect the remainders of what looked to her as a small plate.

Mark laughed softly and went over to help her. He took a piece and looked at it thoughtfully. "How did we get from this…" he said, showing her the piece, "to this?" he ended, gesturing himself. Maureen nodded her agreement.

"You see, that's a really good question! Now find a good answer to go with it and maybe everything will be damn normal again!" It made perfect sense to her. Obviously, Mark wasn't thinking the same, he was frowning the moment she had said that.

"ME?" he asked miserably. Then, as if transformed somehow, he became serious all over again. "Why do you always do that?" Maureen detected accusation back in his tone.

"Do what?" Suddenly she felt very tired from arguing with him. She didn't feel like they were actually getting somewhere. They still didn't know what happened.

"You always… expect someone else to rescue you! You gotta do things on your own, Miss Johnson, figure out things yourself! Because you're the one who seem to know more about yesterday than I do!" Confusion made him aggressive, and Maureen didn't like aggressive Mark at all. Her eyes narrowed. She was furious. How DARE he speaking to me like that!

"What makes you think I know more than you about…" a familiar object caught her attention and made her voice trail off. She moved closer to the couch and picked up the empty vodka bottle from the carpeted floor. She stared at it as several other memories started to sink in. "Oh, shit…" she muttered.

Mark stared at her as she stared the bottle. Her protest had such an abrupt end, he didn't seem to understand what was wrong with her. "What?"

She ignored him, still staring at the empty bottle. "Oh, shit, oh… DAMNIT!" She didn't even remember that the damned bottle was in the fridge! What the hell was she thinking yesterday, finishing it… all by herself?

"Maureen, what? What is it?" Mark asked again, a little impatient that time.

"I was wondering why this hangover popped over me just out of the blue, oh shit!"

It seemed to irritate Mark but she couldn't care less. She picked as much broken glass as she could carry and threw them away along with the empty bottle.

"Hangovers don't come out of the blue, Maureen, they always come from alcohol," remarked Mark cynically and gave her that annoying arrogant look again. "So tell me something…" he went on as she came back to the living-room. "How the hell did you lure me in here anyway? Now that we know that you drank the devil's drink, we can finally figure this all out," he added nastily.

She shot him a murdorous glare. "Lure you in here, Mark?" she hissed, "As far as I know, you just SHOWED UP on my doorway WAY after midnight! And though it's none of your fucking business, actually I did have a reason to get drunk last night but it had nothing to do with you! Stop putting yourself in the middle of the whole fucking universe, stop behaving like a victim all the time!" He just stared at her silently, without protesting, so she just went on, encouraged. "You're not a kid anymore, Mark, start fighting for your own! Wake up! Start living as an adult! Stop hiding behind your goddamned camera!"

"I'll stop hiding when you quit your fucking role as damsel in distress!"

Maureen wondered how was it that none of her neighbors knocked on her door to complain about the noise they were making.

"And I'll remind you to give me my shirt back!" he added coldly.

She raised her eyebrow at that. "What, do you want me to take it off right now?" she teased, her tone as cold as his. She knew he would be embarrassed and she thought he well deserved that. She was about to take the shirt off when Mark's hands shot forward, as if to stop her.

"Don't! Keep it on…" his voice trailed off. He mumbled something, but she was standing too far to hear it. She looked at his reddening face with sheer satisfaction. She felt in control again. She was distracted, for she was trying to think about something else that might embarrasse him. That was why his next remark caught her completely unready and off guard.

"Where's your girl toy by the way?" he asked slickly, "Did she go off to work to support the two of you, or was there something kinky going on here last night too with that… that…" he stopped, as if he couldn't find the word he was looking for.

Maureen heard enough. Two steps forward and she was standing in front of him. She stared at him in shock. She could not believe Mark would go so low. So she did the only thing that seemed to be the appropriate respond.

She slapped him full force on his right cheek.

That caught him completely by surprise, he nearly lost his balance.

"Mind… your own… business…" she warned him icily. Her arm hurt, but she didn't have any intention letting him know that. He looked stunned for a moment, then he returned her icy glare.

"Maureen…" he said in a low voice, "I can't stand you."

She watched him walk away from her and assumed he headed to her bedroom to get dressed. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction to win that fight. Oh, no. She would say the last word.

"Well, guess what, Mark? I can't stand you either!" She heard him mumble something in response but he was too far away. "And get the hell out of my apartment!"

"You don't have to tell me twice, I'm out of here!" was his reply.

She snorted. He's pathetic, she thought. "Good!"

"And keep that stupid shirt!"

Tried as she might, Maureen could not find an appropriate reply to that, she dropped herself on her couch and closed her eyes. Remembering her coffee, she took the mug from the table and sipped from it, but the coffee was too cold already. She cursed. Could this day get any worse!

She knew that it would when she suddenly heard the familiar sound of a key turning in her door's lock. She jumped off the couch, startled. Someone was opening the door. And there was only one person who had the key to her apartment. Unfortunately, it was the only person, aside from Mark, that Maureen didn't wish to see.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"You don't have to tell me twice, I'm out of here!" yelled Mark, as he swept away the sheets and blankets to look for his long sleeved shirt he was wearing under his flannel one. He was so annoyed with her; he just wanted to get away. He didn't know how the hell he got there, and he didn't even want to think how he could ever fall for her again. Why do I love when she's mean, Mark asked himself resentfully. A recurring ache pulsated in his head, and he couldn't help but get agitated easily. He could get quite irritable when he was hurting so.

"Good!" she shouted back from the living room. Mark knew she wanted to get the last word, so he responded angrily.

"And keep that stupid shirt!"

Mark growled, frustrated that he couldn't seem to find his clothes. Well, since she's wearing my shirt, he started off wondering and went into her closet. He grabbed a black shirt, and forced his arms through the sleeves. It was a bit too tight, but he didn't care. He had it only buttoned halfway when he heard a familiar voice on the other side.

"Maureen, stop acting weird, I'm not in the mood! I have a very important hearing in about an hour-" the bedroom doorknob turned and opened, "-so I want to fini-"

Joanne stopped dead in her tracks. Mark looked at her as she froze in front of the doorway, Maureen looking fretfully from behind.

"Well, look who's joined the party," he remarked grinning. "Did you remember to bring the stripper?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Joanne at the same time Maureen exclaimed, "Mark, shut the fuck up!"

Mark grabbed his glasses, determined to leave. "I was just leaving. Maureen- have a nice time in hell." Finally, he was to have the last word. He headed toward the living room.

"Hey!" called Joanne. "Who says you can walk out of here without explaining all of this?"

"Go ask your tramp of a lover!" advised Mark.

"Mark, I told you to shut up!"

He opened the door, looking down, trying to fight the sudden urge of tearing up, then realized he had forgotten something. He slammed the door, and waltzed back toward her bedroom. Joanne was standing in the middle of the hallway, hands on her hips, but Mark didn't mind her. He simply went inside the bedroom and locked it.

Why, oh why, did I forget to put on my pants? thought Mark miserably, and he kicked the sheets to look for them. Someone banged on the door.

"You don't leave this apartment until I get an explanation!" said Joanne enraged. "Do you hear me?"

"Will you please let me put my pants on in peace!" demanded Mark. All the shouting heated him into shouting too. He picked up his jeans and tried to slip into them as quickly as he could.

"Sorry," she said sighing and the knocking stopped. But her voice didn't soften. "And you . . . Why am I not surprised? Of course, I thought it would be some random stranger from the club, but getting your ex into bed was much easier, huh? You see Maureen, you are so predictable, so fucking predictable! This is why I left! I can't take it anymore!"

Mark listened intently, as he buttoned up his jeans. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but now he understood. He understood why Maureen drank that bottle of vodka... because Joanne had finally left her. And she was so broken up about it, and he didn't do anything but throw shots at her because he was so angry. But... how could she lead him on like that? Right after their break up? To sleep with him? It was disgusting.

"Fine," Maureen responded in sobs. Mark listened as he zipped up his pants. "Leave. I don't care. I don't give a damn. Oh and by the way, some Tracy or Daisy or whatever the hell her name is called yesterday night, looking for you. Should I be surprised?"

Mark raised his eyebrows and eavesdropped on Joanne's reply. "Two can play your game Maureen... and might I add? It takes two to tango!" A bang on the door. "Are you quite finished?"

He tugged on his pants for a good fit, and opened the door. He looked at Joanne blankly, and then gave Maureen a sorrowful look. He really did feel sorry for her. He knew exactly how she felt. He turned back to Joanne.

"It's all yours," said Mark. Joanne gave Mark the most unruly look, and strode in the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. He wanted to stick his tongue out like a six-year-old, but contained himself, and stomped to the front door. Maureen followed absent-mindedly.

"Can you believe this?" she asked.

"It's happening isn't it?"

She chuckled a bit. "Yeah I guess." Mark gave her a wild look. How could she be laughing through all this, and pretend their battle never happened?

"How can you find humor in that sadistic mind of yours?" He patted his pocket out of force of habit, and hated himself. "Shit. I forgot my wallet in your bedroom." He went back to the bedroom door and knocked. "I need something!"

The door opened violently, as if it were to fall out of their hinges. "What?" Joanne demanded.

"Give me a second, Joanne, I just forgot something," he said trying to collect his calmness at last. He was out of breath, and a bit afraid of what Joanne might do. She threw him a murderous glare, but allowed him in. Mark quickly grabbed his wallet from the dresser and went out the door for the umpteenth time.

"Hey smartass, isn't that my shirt you're wearing?" asked Joanne.

He stopped and looked at the shirt. He couldn't help but take a shot at her. "You want it back?"

She gave him a look as if he was stupid, and Mark unbuttoned it hastily. He threw the shirt at her. "Take it." He finally found his white shirt sticking from under the bed, and he slid into it. He shook his head at Joanne. "Didn't I tell you? Didn't I warn you?"

"But you're still here after all that?" asked Joanne bitterly. She cast a lipstick at him and he ducked. "I knew all along, even when you and Maureen didn't. I watched the two of you ever since I met you, ever since the time at Christmas. I knew it would end up like this. And now I just feel sorry for you."

"For ME?" asked Mark exasperated. Was the whole world blaming him? "If you knew all along, why did you keeping leading her on? I feel sorry for YOU. Wasting your time on a hopeless case." He nodded to Maureen.

"If that's what you think of her, how is it that you're back here? How is it that I find you in her bedroom minimally dressed? She is wearing YOUR shirt for heaven's sake! Not that it's any of my goddamn business anyway, I'm done with her."

"I don't know how the hell I got here, but no doubt that she had something to do with it! Wait..." It finally hit him. He knew that Maureen and Joanne had split up numerous times among the year, but this time it was really serious. Joanne was actually packing her bags, and Maureen was really devastated. Maureen was sincerely feeling the way he felt the day she left him for another woman. God, how he would do anything to erase that day. "It's really over between you two?"

A devilish smile crept up on Joanne's face. "She's all yours Mark. Take her if you want her. I'm sure she won't mind at all, you're all she ever talks-" she stopped.

Mark looked at her carefully. He didn't think about getting Maureen back now, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did Maureen actually still have feelings for him? Was there a bit of ignited flame that he could fan?

"What?" Mark looked at Maureen. "What?" He had always longed for another chance. He tried to figure out the expression on her face, then wiped out the thought. She looked pitiful, and he just couldn't go through it. She didn't want him. She wanted Joanne more than she wanted him. An image of Maureen and Joanne together gave him a revolting feeling in his stomach. "You are unbelievable." He turned to Joanne. "I don't want her."

"Really, you don't?" asked Joanne skeptically. "You're not a good liar Mark, and I'm a lawyer, remember? You don't fool me."

He glared at her. "You're right up there with the rest of them. Lawyers, crooks, and snakes. Go screw yourself Joanne, I tried to help you from the start." He began to leave.

"Tried to help her from the start?" asked Maureen madly. "What the hell is that Mark? Hey, don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you." She grabbed his shoulder, and he was forced to look at her.

"Nothing, Maureen...nothing. Look, my condolences to the next person you screw." He didn't want to swipe her hand away, but he got a hold of the knob.

"Mark, look," she said. He looked at her and realized that she was awfully close to him. He waited for a reply. "I..." she paused. "I'll...bring your shirt back tomorrow, okay?"

He looked at her with sorry eyes. Then he looked at her with eyes of stone. His emotions moved around like crazy, and he was tired of it. "Burn it." He could care less now.

"Mark wait, let me explain, I-"

"No more excuses Maureen, I'm sick of iridescent."

"Fine...if you wanna go, then go...go...leave me alone. I don't need you or her or anyone else. And I will burn this shirt Mark, along with other things I still have."

Mark had had enough. "Fine. Burn the past. Burn us. Maybe it's better that way." This was it. He couldn't see her again.

"I'm sorry. I know you think this is bullshit, but I AM sorry, Mark. And whatever happened last night... this... you and me... shouldn't have happened."

Last night? He didn't even know how the fuck he got there! Nonetheless he was hurt for her saying that. "No. It never happened. I was never here."

"Don't lie, not now. I don't remember much, but you _were_ here."

"Look Maureen, I just want to forget this ever happened." He stepped out of the apartment. "So how does it feel being... alone?" And he closed the door on her.

Brokenheartedness thwarting is mind, he didn't even notice bumping into a woman coming out of her apartment.

"Hey- watch it," she warned.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Hey... are you all right?"

He didn't answer her, but continued to walk down the stairs. He bursted out of the building, the iridescent sun blinding him as he stumbled onto the sidewalk. If his mind wasn't clouded enough, now his vision was hazed over by light. What happened, what happened, why can't I figure it out? thought Mark angrily. He wished that he didn't get wasted yesterday, he wished that he remembered!

Stop yourself, he told himself. He couldn't start over again, not now when he's promised to forget everything. He just had to. He didn't want anything to do with Maureen and her life. Angel wouldn't have liked this, but she deceived him, she deceived everyone. I can't look at her anymore, he thought hoplessly. But what about everyone else? He knew there would be a time where he'd meet her again. Collins and her were like glue, and he couldn't stay away from Collins. Mimi and Maureen were close as well. It was unavoidable! Everywhere he turned- Maureen! Maureen! Maureen!

I just want my camera, thought Mark. There has to be something else exciting going on around here that he could film. Maybe if he shot a few scenes somewhere, he could take his mind off her. His emotions were running wild, up and down, panning left, panning right, he couldn't feel anything steady. He couldn't get a solid feeling for a solid moment, he felt so confused. He recognized his apartment building. Thank God, he thought relieved.

Once he got passed the torn wallpaper, rickety stairs, and cigarette smoke-filled hallways, he was glad to have stepped into their loft, which had the new, refreshing smell of alcohol, but at least it was home. As he closed the door, he spotted Roger kneeling on one knee on the floor, picking up empty bottles of beer. Roger looked up as he heard the lock click.

"You must have had some party last night," said Roger, though Mark suspected that Roger was just giving him a chance to explain. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"Don't," said Mark and a sudden churn twisted in his stomach. The smell of beer had hit stomach. "I'll clean it up," he managed to finish.

"It's all right," said Roger standing. "You look wrecked. What happened?"

"That seems to be the question of the day," said Mark. He wasn't sure if he should tell him where he had ended up. "I really don't know."

Roger came up to him attentively. He was close enough to him that Mark was afraid that he was going to strangle him out of nowhere.

"We need to talk later," muttered Roger.

"I don't feel like talking later," said Mark truthfully. Later, he just wanted to be snugged in his bed, asleep.

"Mark, don't avoid it," said Roger. "I use to be a drug addict, alcohol is a drug."

"I have it under control..." he said, slightly doubtful.

"Mark-"

"I have to do some thinking, if you don't mind Roger, I have to find my camera."

"You can't think and look into that camera of yours at the same time."

Mark raised his voice. "I- I..." He came to a halt. Roger was just trying to be a good friend. But he didn't want him to help. He had a sudden thought. This was just how it was when Mimi and Roger fought that one New Year's. Mark was trying to point out what was wrong, and Roger told him to back off. That was when Mark was a witness to everything, seeing the world through his lenses, his glasses, his eyes. Now... had he possibly fell into the role as the victim? Where was his camera, anyway?

"Shit," cursed Mark a bit too loudly. Roger shushed him.

"Mark, I didn't tell you-"

"Hi Mark."

Pushing up his glasses, Mark jerked his head to see where that familiar voice was coming from. Coming out of the hallway was Cindy, his older sister, carrying her two-year-old in one arm, and holding her four-year-old with the other hand. She was a beautiful mom, with carrot top hair and blonde highlights, shining in waves down her shoulders. She was smiling, but she had a bit of worry in her voice.

"Cindy... I didn't know you were here," apologized Mark.

Well... we had a little potty break," she said laughing a bit, pointing to her oldest son. "Say hi to Uncle Mark, Adam."

Adam walked shyly to Mark. He was dark-haired with green eyes from his mother. He smiled meakly as he hugged Mark's leg, and said, "hello." Mark smiled, and fussed with Adam's hair.

"Hey big guy," said Mark as he looked down at the kid who was no more than two feet tall. "How's it going?"

"Good," he replied bashfully, and ran back to his mother.

"He doesn't know me too well," said Mark, reading her mind.

"You don't visit that often," she said softly, yet she was still smiling. She walked over to him and brushed away the little girl's hair from her face. She had her mother's hair, but brown eyes, and the most beautiful dimples.

"And this is your uncle...say hi," she cooed at her, and the little girl smiled broadly.

"Hello Rebecca...I haven't seen you since you were born," said Mark tickling her. He looked at Cindy. "What are you doing here?" He was sort of embarassed. This wasn't exactly the right time for a family reunion.

"I was... worried," she said gently. "I thought maybe we could talk... while Roger babysits."

"What?" he said surprised.

"Oh yeah, they're angels, no problem at all," she assured him. "I mean, you would't let us pass the opportunity of catching up, brother and sister and all?"

"Oh well you see, I'm not very good with kids..." started Roger.

"Sure you are," she said, and gave Rebecca to him. She hugged his neck immediately, and Roger sighed hopelessly.

"That's not fair, I'm a New Yorker!" he said.

"Have fun," said Cindy taking Mark's arm. "Let's go."

"Wait...I have to get my camera-"

"Do you still play with that thing? Mark, I don't have much time." Before he knew it, he was pulled away by his older sister and dragged to a small coffee house where they caught up. Cindy was living happily with her husband, and her life seemed to have been a romantic fairytale. Mark felt even more depressed because he could have had a happy life like Cindy's if he had listened to his parents like she did.

"You don't call anymore," remarked Cindy softly, as she stirred her cup of java.

"I know..." said Mark guiltily. "I know I should... but..."

"You've still got issues with dad..." she finished. He didn't say anything. She sighed. "But... you're not going out with Maureen anymore. There's no reason why you two-"

"That's the thing," complained Mark.

"What?"

"He's right. He's always right. I want to do things for myself. He already hates it that I didn't become a high-classed surgeon or something, but he had to be right about... about her." She looked at him, frowning. He continued. "I want to show him that I can be as happy as him, as happy as you, but by following my own dream."

"You still love her, don't you?"

"No... no, what gave you that idea?"

"Because you're afraid you'd blush or think about her if you ever say her name."

"Cindy-"

"Mark, you don't talk much. I'm the only person who's ever actually gotten you to talk without censorship. You don't even talk to Roger this way, and you've known him forever."

"It's because I love you," he said quietly. "I trust you."

"And Roger?"

"I can't... talk to him about these things. He's got his own baggage."

"And there's only been one other person who could get you to show them how you really feel, what you really think."

And although he didn't say her name, a faint tinge of red appeared on his cheeks, as he crossed his arms resentfully, and turned away. No more. I've danced the tango, he thought, I'm through.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- I wanted to use this update to thank all of you, our wonderful reviewers! Also, I wanted to draw your attention to Rent one-shots, written (separately this time) by Fae and me, so check them out! Fae's called Forget Regret and it's already on the site, mine is called Breaking and I'll post it very soon (soon as in the next few days… or hours… lol) so stay alert! Keep reviewing! Thanks everyone!**

**And now back to our story, today it's Maureen's turn…**

**Chapter Six**

The water was streaming down her hair, taking shampoo and shower gel down the drain with them. Maureen was screaming the lyrics of an old rock'n'roll song as she washed the soap out of her long hair. She was completely off key but didn't really care. She LOVED singing in the shower and fuck everyone else. It had the best acoustics there. Whenever she had a gig somewhere she would lock herself in the shower for hours to rehearse. It drove Mark crazy, it drove Joanne crazy even more, but she didn't care. They knew nothing about show business. She was a performer. And she always knew best, whatsoever.

Somehow, she was able to hear the doorbell through the sounds of running water and her own voice. She turned off the water and snatched a towel to wrap it around her. It wasn't a big towel but Maureen decided it covered enough of her. Besides, she thought as she wrapped her hair in another towel, she knew who it was, and knowing him, he wouldn't even care.

The doorbell rang again and Maureen raced to the door, leaving a trail of wet footprints in the hall. As she suspected, her best friend in the whole wide world was standing on the doorway. He looked as handsome as ever, and his concerned expression changed into a big smile as he saw her image in her tiny towel.

"Collins!" she cried joyously and launched herself into his arms, wet towel and everything. Since he hadn't been given the chance to say something, Collins let out a short soft laughter and wrapped his arms around Maureen in a big brotherly hug. He was not at all shocked by her welcome, on the contrary. It was usual Maureenish behavior, and after listening to her weird message he was actually relieved to see her as energetic and as cheerful as always. He was not even bothered by the way she looked greeting him.

Finally, Maureen let him go and pulled him inside the apartment.

"I heard your message," he started and looked at her seriously. "You scared the hell out of me, girl , what happened?" Maureen just snorted, closed the door shut and headed to her bedroom to get dressed. "Is Life good with you?" She heard him ask as she closed her bedroom door.

"What? Why?" she shouted back as she loosened her hair from its toweled cage.

"Cause I wanna talk, and I wanna take you out, so I'm asking if Life is good enough!"

"Yeah, sure, okay!" She had just realized that she hadn't left the apartment ever since Joanne left. She was home for three days. She NEEDED to get out. Thank goodness for Collins, she thought. "Give me like five minutes!" The sound of the TV was her only reply.

She went through her clothes and tried to dry her hair at the same time. She chose jeans and one of Joanne's dress shirts. It was not her usual transparent and revealing style, yet, she always wanted to wear that shirt but didn't risk getting caught by her lawyer lover. Luckily, Joanne just forgot about it when she was there two days ago. It didn't even have a decent cleavage, thought Maureen as she checked her reflection in the full length mirror in the closet, if you bottomed it all the way up, which of course she didn't. A girl must have some respect to her reputation, she decided. She left the three top bottoms open and rolled the shirt's sleeves up to her elbows. She wasn't in the mood for make-up so she just slipped into her leather boots, took her bag and went to the living-room.

"Here I am!" she stated, flashing her diva smile at him.

Collins turned the TV off and got up from her couch. He took a long look at her unusual appearance but said nothing. He followed her to the door. "How is it that you always promise you'll be ready in five minutes and then it always streches into 30 somehow?" he teased and wrapped his arm around her waist. Maureen just smiled as she locked the door behind them.

They walked to the Life Café in silence. It was a 15 minutes' walk from Maureen's. She walked silently, lost in thoughts, still clinging to Collins' waist, and tried to ignore the side glances that he kept sending in her direction when he thought she wasn't looking.

Soon they got to the café and chose a small table for two at the far end. They sat across from one another just as the waiter came to pick up their orders. Both men raised a surprised eyebrow when Maureen asked for coffee instead of her usual Cosmo. Of course she noticed them, it was hard not to, but she acted as if she didn't. Collins asked for a coke and the waited nodded and left with their orders.

Collins looked at her for a second, then asked, "So, Maureen, how are you doing?" His tone was casual, yet Maureen's eyes narrowed. She looked at him suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully, her tone as suspicious as her look. How the hell can he read me so well, she thought.

"Nothing," he smiled, "just making a light conversation… or have you forgot how to converse?" he added gently.

She raised one questioning eyebrow at that. "Light conversation? Yeah, I think I can still manage that… so how was the seminar?" she asked, matter-of-factly.

Collins smiled. "Great, reminded me how much I loved teaching, and it was refreshing to see students so eager to succeed in this living hell we call our world." He looked at her intently. Maureen felt as if he was observing her. She hated when he did that, he could always read through her like an open book. He was the only one who was able to do that. He had that affect on her, she became so unusually soft and docile when he was around. She didn't feel like she had to be in control because she knew that if Collins was there, he'd have enough control for both of them. His presence alone was comforting, as far as Maureen could tell.

"Are you doing all right? Any… protests? Commotions? Maureen Johnson riots?" he joked.

Maureen laughed bitterly at that. "No, nothing of that kind," she added softly and laid her hands on the table.

Collins' hands were huge compared to hers, she noticed, as he took her hands gently in his. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Maureen let out a desperate sigh and dropped her head on the small table, over their joined hands. If he even knew how many things she needed to talk about… She felt so tired, too tired to retell the weekend's events. So she said nothing, and he didn't put any pressure on her.

She had to raise her head though, as the waiter came back with their drinks. Maureen wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, which spread a comforting heat.

Collins sipped his coke silently. He looked at the entrance, then back at Maureen. "Warm morning, huh?" he remarked, observing her shirt.

Maureen wasn't sure whether he meant it as a compliment or as a criticism, so she decided that being on the safer side was always better. "Something wrong with this shirt?" she asked defensivly, "Because I thought you'd be pleased that I finally fitted myself into Tom Collins' style." She had always thought that Collins was one of the most stylish men on the planet. The fact that he was her best friend made it even better. She felt proud walking next to him on the street, as if his sense of style somehow rediated over to her too.

Collins smiled at her implied compliment. He took her hand in his again and gave it a little squeeze. "Thanks, Maureen, but Mark seems to be giving me a run for my money, that is, if I had any…"

Maureen pulled her hand away abruptly as he mentioned Mark's name. Her haste reaction made Collins shift slightly in his seat, and Maureen realized her mistake just then when he gave her his intent look again.

"Ah, I see…" he said slowly, not breaking eye contact.

Maureen said nothing. She cursed herself for pulling her hand away so quickly. Of course Collins would notice, he notices everything, she scorned herself.

"So where does Joanne fit into all this?" added Collins carefully.

Maureen hesitated. Then she looked into his eyes and said, as calmly as she could, "Joanne dumped me."

Collins didn't look shocked. In fact, he didn't look surprised at all; he seemed to have been waiting for it. Am I the only one who didn't even see this coming? she desperately asked herself.

"I'm guessing it's for good?"

Maureen felt the tears that started gathering in the corners of her eyes already. But she didn't want to cry, oh no, she had enough of that during the weekend. So instead she nodded and took some napkins to wipe the tears away.

Collins gently moved her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I know how it feels to lose someone dear to you." She knew he was thinking about Angel. Sweet Angel, how she missed her sometimes. They all did. "Do you want a drink?"

Maureen shook her head. "No… no, I don't…" She was determined not to touch alcohol ever again, or at least until she would realize exactly what happened with Mark in her apartment on the weekend.

Collins looked surprised to hear that but he said nothing about it. Instead, he asked, "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Maureen let out a long, sad sigh. "She… she said she had enough, that she couldn't do it anymore… and it was such a shock because I really don't have any idea why she did it all of a sudden," she said honestly. She felt relieved telling it to someone. The fact it was Collins made her feel even better. "It just seemed so unfair because, well, you know how much I've changed for her, what I've risked, what I've sacrificed!" While she was saying that, she suddenly realized why she was crying the entire weekend. She didn't cry over Joanne or their breakup, but over the things she sacrificed to make their relationship work. She gave up a lot for Joanne, above all things, she became a lesbian for her, and frankly, Joanne stayed pretty much the same. Her life didn't change, at least not in the same drastic way Maureen's did. And suddenly she couldn't help but wonder, maybe everything she did wasn't enough. Maybe that was why Joanne left.

Collins held her hand tightly in his. "I know, sweetheart, breaking up is never an easy thing."

Maureen wanted to ask if he told the same thing to Mark after she dumped him, but didn't dare.

"You know… I know it wasn't just me, I'm sure you must have had that feeling that… Joanne was not the one all along," he said quietly. She lowered her head. He couldn't possibly think that! Collins raised her chin to face him. "What I mean is, can you really imagine Maureen Johnson living with a tired, sneaky lawyer for the rest of her life?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she managed a small smile. Now as he said that, she definitely could not imagine it. "The thing is…" she hesitated. Should she tell him the whole story? She still wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. "Oh, Collins, my life became such a fucking mess through this weekend…" she sighed miserably, holding back tears.

"You'll get yourself together," he promised, handing her some more napkins. "We're in hard times, I'm still healing. Now I don't know how long it'll take you to heal, but you're strong. You've always been tough. What if I take you somewhere later?" he suggested gently, caressing her cheek, "Would you like that?"

"I'm not much in the mood," she answered, shifting uncomfotrably in her seat. She had to tell him. She couldn't hold it in any longer. "You see… there's another thing… that happened… during the weekend," she said and glanced at Collins. By the look on his face, she knew he had already put two and two together.

"This have anything to do with Mark?"

Maureen slowly nodded. "But first you must promise that you won't judge me, or reach to hasty conclusions," she said sternly.

He looked offended, but she knew he wasn't, really. "Now, Maureen. You know me better. Would you ever expect anything rash from me?"

"No, of course not. I'm just saying… because lately people keep surprising me… they say things I've never expected them to say… oh, forget it, I'm just rambling."

"People can say things they don't mean under great deals of stress," said Collins and smiled, lost in a memory. "I mean, once I told Angel that she looked terrible as a blonde, even though I knew damn well she looked hot! I bet you do the same but I still love you. You know you're not unloved, right?" he was rambling. She couldn't stay concentrated though. Her mind was occupied keeping her secret behind locked lips… until she couldn't hold it any longer.

"I slept with Mark," she said suddenly. She felt better already.

Collins' ramble stopped at once. "What was that?"

"Do I really have to say that again?" she asked, desperately. Was he joking?

Collins chuckled slightly. "I just… want to hear it again. I didn't quite hear it the first time," he said in a strange voice, as if he was trying really bad not to giggle.

Maureen frowned. She didn't believe a word of it, but she was too tired to argue. "Fine. I slept with Mark," she repeated.

Collins had a big silly grin across his face. "It's about time."

Maureen stared at him, completely taken back by his reply. She expected shocked silence, or a lecture on morale, or something, but she surely didn't expect that.

"Excuse me?" she asked, totally confused.

Collins laughed softly. "Maureen, you're quite the drama queen, and I don't doubt that you're a good actress, but you have so much to learn. Now I've been around and about so long, I pick up these things." His calm tone suddenly made her very angry.

"What things? What are you telling me, Collins? That you… PREDICTED this thing would happen?" she asked, shocked.

Collins laughed again. "Perfectly stated. Predicted: as in educated guess. I didn't just pull things out of my ass, honey. I mean, the Joanne thing… I couldn't figure that out as much, but you… don't you notice yourself flirting with him?" he looked so pleased with himself, Maureen felt like slapping him... maybe that would take that grin off his face. She was absolutely horrified by what he had just told her.

"FLIRTING? With MARK? Oh, for God's sake, Collins!" she said, her voice gradually raising.

"What?" he asked defensivally. "I don't believe you haven't noticed! He flirts back, but I don't think he notices either, he's so awful at it." Collins had an amused expression on and that annoying grin that refused to leave his face.

Maureen was not at all amused. "Read my lips, Collins, I DO NOT flirt with Mark! Have you lost your mind? He's my goddamn ex, and after this weekend I want nothing to do with him ever again!"

"You don't mean that." At least that wiped the grin off his face, she thought. "And keep it down, you're causing a commotion," he added, then stopped suddenly, and smacked his head with his hand, "What am I saying?"

Maureen frowned but looked over her shoulder to check if anyone paid any attention to them. The place was nearly deserted, and the people who were there didn't seem too bothered about it. She used to say that she didn't cause commotions, she WAS one. And usually she didn't give a damn what everyone else were thinking, but it was her private life they were discussing. She turned back to Collins and lowered her voice, just in case. "The hell I don't mean it, Collins," she snapped. "I don't want anything to do with him."

Collins gazed at her for a moment, then smirked. "Prove it."

Maureen's eyes narrowed. "How?"

"I'm going to the loft later because I need to catch up with the rest of the guys anyway, and I need to talk with Mimi. Come with me, flirt with Mark, and we'll just see how much you don't want him," he said, looking straight into her eyes.

Maureen shook her head. Absurd, does he really think I'll go for it?

"I won't flirt with him just to prove my point. I won't go so low, and I won't make a fool out of myself considering the fact that he made it very clear that he didn't want anything to do with me either." Her eyes were burning with determination.

Collins watched her sipping her coffee, than leaned back in his chair. "Maureen… You're not… afraid, are you?" he asked playfully.

"Me? Afraid?" she snorted. "Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"Then come to the loft with me," he asked , his tone becoming serious once again.

Maureen shook her head stubbornly. "No, I won't! It'll be too humiliating, we don't even remember what happened there."

The silly grin rematerialized on Collins' face. "You remember ONE thing," he joked.

Maureen frowned. He found the whole thing very amusing, while she felt as if her life were collapsing upon her, just because of that one damn night.

"Besides, the Maureen I knew never denied a challenge. Could it be… no, my Maureen, you're not… turning into one of them, are you? One of the normal girls?" and then he turned serious again. "Don't turn into one of them. One thing I love about you is that I've never met anyone like you," he said gently.

Maureen looked away. She was touched by what he had just said, by his honesty. No one ever said something like that to her before. Mark tried, in his impossible dorkish ways, she was sure, and Joanne always tried to turn her into one of these normal girls. Collins just loved her the way she was, and knew exactly how to make her feel better. She loved him for it. Should she do what he asked her? She wasn't sure she could. She WAS afraid. But she couldn't tell that to Collins. She looked at him, and hoped the fear was well reflected in her eyes.

"I just… can't do it, Collins," she said quietly and looked away.

As if he sensed her pain, he nodded. "All right, sweetie," he said gently. "But promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise you'd always know that I love you, and that you'll always love me in return. We don't have anyone else but each other now, do we?"

Great, now she was about to cry again. She took Collins' hands in hers. "I promise, I will, I'll always love you, Collins, how can you even doubt this?" Suddenly, she knew exactly what she had to do. She nearly kicked herself for not thinking about it before. "We DO have only each other," she said, looking at him, "so why don't you move in with me?"

Collins took a moment to consider, than a beautiful smile lightened up his entire face. "I'm already there and packed," he said and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Tonight's good?"

And that's when it happened. Maureen felt a slow smile making its way across her face until it settled on her lips. Her first real smile in three days. "Tonight's great."

"Perfect," said Collins and smiled at her, obviously relieved by the change in her mood. The silence between them was cut abruptly with a noisy group entering the café. As she always did, Maureen turned over her shoulder to see who had just came in.

Her gaze locked with Mark's, who was standing there along with Roger and Mimi. For a moment she was paralized. Then she slowly removed her gaze, hoping that Collins didn't notice her doing it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Always eat your vegetables, stand up straight, finish college, choose a steady profession, find a decent, Jewish girl. Mark's brain was rattling with all the things his parents told him to do because it was for his own good. Recently, he's been wondering what would happen if he followed the path his parents paved for him. Would he have been happier? He didn't want to think about it. He hated the fact that there was a possibility where his parents ended up right. He needed to prove himself. He could survive on his own. He could do things for himself.

He still ate his vegetables. Directing was a fine profession, or so he wanted to believe. He still stood up straight... sometimes. He was doing everything for his own good. And yet... it felt as if the whole world was collapsing before his eyes. Why couldn't he just forget her?

Mark rubbed his eyes under his glasses sleepily. Although it was morning, and he had been awake for two hours, he was still tired. The hangover two days ago was just now fading, his thought process still screwed up, but he tried all he could to forget everything that happened that night... or forget everything he failed to remember that night... man, he couldn't even forget properly! He sighed helplessly and folded the old letter back into four, and placed it back in his small box. He put the lid on, shoved it carelessly on top of his closet, and shut the door.

He walked into the living room hopelessly. What was he supposed to do now? He would have filmed something, but he couldn't find his camera anywhere. He didn't remember the last time he had it, or where he could have put it. He cleaned up the reels that were laying around on the weekend, and searched endlessly for it, but with no luck. He slumped on the couch, and stared at the ceiling. He didn't feel like editing either.

He pulled himself into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. What did they have that hasn't gone bad?

"Haven't you learned your lesson?" a voice asked from behind. Mark looked over his shoulder to see Roger watching him attentively.

"No more alcohol," said Mark. Roger grinned.

"Good. I threw every bottle out this morning. I was getting really worried about you."

"You're a good friend. So... what are we having? We've got our lovely choices of sour milk, eight-month-old bread, and...I don't even know what the hell that green stuff is in the back. What are we going to do?"

"Mimi and I were going to the Life Café for brunch. Why don't you join us?"

"I don't know."

"No...I insist you go with us or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else we'll use Mimi's handcuffs to chain you to your bed where you'll stay for the rest of your life...or until you die. I'm nice, I'll give you the choice."

They were both smirking, and Mark agreed to go with him. They engaged in a light conversation while waiting for Mimi, and Mark felt his spirits lifting a little. At least there was Roger, who had always been there beside him when he needed him. Roger didn't ask much questions, and didn't pry into his business as much, but he seemed to always know what was going on, more or less. Mark didn't need to tell him everything, even though there were times that Mark told him whatever it was on his mind. They were just sitting around, when the phone rang, and they screened.

"_Speak..._" a beep followed. "Mark Cohen? My name is Genevieve Johansen, and I was recommended to call you from Mr. and Mrs. Holsberg..."

"Hey, a job," said Roger to Mark.

"How nice of the Holsberg's," said Mark.

"... Our little girl, Mariana, just turned a year old, and we would like to take a family portrait, and well... we loved the photo of the Holsberg hanging above their fireplace. We have a little boy too, Daniel. We're willing to pay a generous sum. Please contact us at 915-3238. The best time to call is late afternoon, or just leave us a message. Thank you."

Mark scribbled the number quickly in a pad on their coffee table, and the name Johansen. Finally, something to keep his mind on, and something that'll give him some extra cash.

"Thank God it's a photo session and not a film shoot. I can't find my camera anywhere, and it's irritating the hell out of me," said Mark.

"I wish I could help you out," said Roger. He grabbed his guitar from behind the sofa, and started thrumming the strings. Roger looked at his friend curiously.

"You know, why don't I teach you a few chords?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, come on. It'll help you relax."

"I don't know. I'm not that musically coordinated. Besides you said you'd kill me if I ever touched your guitar."

"Well... it's been through worse. Come on." He handed him his guitar, and Mark took it indecisively. He didn't know much about guitars or how to hold them for that matter. He tried to imitate Roger, angling the instrument in a slant direction, and positioned his fingers until he was able to strum it properly. He looked at Roger abashed.

"Good. Now since you don't have a plectron-"

"I do too!"

"A pick, Marky," Roger cleared up. "What you use to pluck the strings."

"Oh." Mark bit his lip and Roger didn't seem to mind the fact that Mark was an idiot when it came to playing a guitar. For the next half hour, Roger lectured him on chords, and melodies, and even provided him with his own tips and ways to think of a catchy tune. Luckily for Mark, he was a fast learner and was patient so he has caught on quickly. He admitted he would never reach the esteem of Roger's greatness, or even the guy with the squeegee, but he was alright.

The guitar was relaxing and it was something they both were able to share. Ever since Mimi, he hadn't been seeing his friend much. He didn't mind sometimes because he was glad to see Roger happy. He remembered a time when Roger was very distant, and vulnerable, right after April died. And even though Mark did all he could to stay near him, he still couldn't get a word in edgewise from his afflicted friend. But now, he was so happy.

This could become a nice hobby on the side, thought Mark as he practiced the chords, while Roger watched him observantly. Lyrics wouldn't be so hard either because Mark too had a way with words. Writing those screenplays weren't acts of Shakespeare, but they were good enough.

A knock came on the door, startling them both. Roger called them to come in.

"Hey boys," said Mimi, as she closed the door behind her. She was in an awfully cheerful mood, she had a glimmer in her eyes, and her lovely curls tied back. She walked to sit next to Roger. They kissed, and grinned at each other, then she looked at Mark.

"Mark, what are you doing with Roger's guitar?" she asked in a false sense of shock.

"Well I was going to destroy it, but..."

"You mean that's not what you're doing to it now?" asked Roger jokingly.

"Haha," said Mark. He played a few chords which sounded like a bad version of Musetta's Waltz.

"Yeah... you're a regular Steve Tyler," commented Mimi.

"I'd like to see you behind the camera," said Mark.

"Behind... or on?" said Mimi striking a pose. Mark shook his head smiling.

"Come on let's go to Life," said Roger standing. "You can borrow my guitar any time you'd like. Well, not if I'm using it. Or on Mondays, Fridays, or Saturdays. And after 9PM. Oh, and it doesn't leave this house."

"Would you like me to sign a waiver too?"

Mimi laughed, and Roger just gave him a look. He then smiled, and they headed out the door for the Life Café. All the way there, Roger and Mimi teased Mark about his playing. Mark thought some of their jokes funny, but then he began feeling foolish and embarrassed. He just wanted to play to relax, get his mind off other troubling events. They didn't need to make a big scene about it. He didn't want to complain, but he started to feel so alone again. He didn't have anyone to stick up for him, even though he knew they were just kidding around. It still was nice to have someone firing back their own shots... he knew who use to do that for him...

They entered Life Café, quite noisily, Mark sticking behind them. Mimi and Roger went a bit further to get a table, and Mark lagged behind, hoping that nobody would notice that he was the target of their laughter. Then he saw her. Maureen.

Their eyes met and he froze. His expression was blank, and he couldn't read hers either. Just look through her, Mark thought desperately, look as if she doesn't exist. He stared at her, into her, and it happened. She slowly turned away, and he exhaled slowly. She broke away first. This is going to be harder than I thought, Mark told himself.

He strolled over to the small table that Roger and Mimi were already sitting in, and he took the seat across from them. He looked down at the table.

"Collins and Maureen are here. Let's go say hello," suggested Mimi.

"Yeah okay," said Roger and he turned to Mark. "You... want to come?Mark shook his head. "No, I'm not feeling too well. You go ahead, tell Collins I said hi and that I'll meet up with him later."

"Okay," said Roger. Mimi gave Roger a worried look, and Roger whispered lowly, "don't worry about him." They got up, but before they left for Collins and Maureen Roger said,

"We'll be right back." He gave Mark a reassuring smile, and Mimi placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

"Don't miss us too much," she said softly and winked at him. He smiled. She always made him feel better. They both did. They walked over to Collins and Maureen, and Mark was once again alone with his thoughts. It felt awkward being in the same room with Maureen. He had just told her the last time he saw her that he didn't ever want to see him again. This was something he would talk to Angel about. He always looked up to her for advice. Since she was always the one spreading love around the gang, Mark always seemed to take her as a mentor, a true angel. When she left the world, he would try to do what she used to do, and reunite everyone when they were all fighting. But what could he do for himself?

"Hi."

Mark lifted his head, and saw a stranger standing in front of him, coffee mug in hand. She had long, dark red hair which spiraled down her fair colored skin. She was a nice build, with nice features, a very pretty face, and green eyes perched behind a thin-framed glasses, and high cheekbones. He couldn't help, but stare. She was so pretty.

"Hi," he replied. He wondered what she needed. She looked at him as if she knew him from somewhere. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Two mornings ago you were in my building, you bumped into me, don't you remember? And then that night, you came looking for Maureen. Mind if I sit down?"

"Umm..." Mark was still trying to take in everything she had just said. She talked so fast, and had the original New York accent. She sure wasn't the shy type, like he was, but he couldn't help but become attracted. That evening? She must live in the same building as Maureen, he thought. Right... she was the woman he bumped into when leaving.

"I remember you from that morning... but that evening?"

She seemed to have ignored his comment because she said, "You were deserted by your friends, I see." She gestured to his friends at the other table. "Do you know her long?"

He was afraid that she meant Maureen. He tried to pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. "I'm sorry, who?"

She looked at him stunned. "Maureen! You came looking for her that night, you knocked on my door by mistake, don't you remember?"

Don't you remember? That question echoed in his ears. He had heard it and thought about it so many times, it suddenly became funny. He laughed a bit. "Actually, this may sound weird, but I don't. I must have been that bad."

She smiled. "I'm Michelle, by the way."

"Mark. I'm Mark." He looked at her warmly. She was so sweet to him, but he really didn't feel like sympathy visits. He was depressed enough. "You don't need to do this, you know. They didn't leave me for long... I don't think."

She looked kind of hurt, which was not Mark's intention at all. "You looked very lonely so I thought you'd want some company..." she looked as if she was about to leave.

"No!" said Mark, trying not to give her the wrong impression. "No, I don't mind your company... it's kinda nice. It's just... I never expected any, and well..." he trailed off. He really did enjoy having her there. No one had ever come up to him uninvited before. No great looking girl anyway.

"Why are you not sitting with them? They look like they're having fun." She gestured to them, and he looked over at the gang. Roger and Mimi had bursted out laughing at Collins who seemed to have been telling them a funny story. Maureen, however, looked distracted, and didn't express any form of interest.

"Well, I..." started off Mark. He had just met her, he didn't want to give anything away. "There's just some unresolved issues that I don't really want to talk about. It's okay, I'm use to being alone."

"That's so sad, how can you even say that, no one is supposed to be used to such a thing!" She fawned over him, and he felt himself flushing.

"You haven't met Mark Cohen. Director, Filmmaker, Photographer, That Lonely guy Over There."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad! You seem like a really nice guy, and so do those guys over there. You should be lucky to have them. Better than living alone in a tiny apartment with a red cat that doesn't even come when he's called."

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. Basically I'm from Brooklyn, that is, my parents are. But since the school I chosen is in this area, I thought it best if I found my own place here. "

"Oh, what are you majoring in?" asked Mark interested. She was one of the first he's met that actually went through with college.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

What could she possibly be majoring in? thought Mark, and promised.

"Generally speaking it's literature, but I'm more interested in epic poetry."

Mark raised a steady eyebrow. "Epic... poetry?" It was kind of strange, but she was so different... no one like he's ever met before, and he really started to like her. Not only was she a good conversationist, but she did things other people wouldn't do. He liked that in a girl. "That's not bad... but in New York?"

"They don't teach that, or specialize in it, in so many places. It was either New York or Seattle, and Seattle was too far away for me."

"Well New York is the place to be I guess." Lame, lame, lame, Mark cursed at himself. He tried to save himself. "But I would have loved to film Seattle."

"You're in the movie business? How exciting! Have I seen any of your work?"

"Umm." He had to laugh. "I'm not at all famous. I film birthday parties, weddings... oh God, this is embarrassing."

She smiled at him, looking at him adoringly. "That's work too, I guess. I really wouldn't know." She then suddenly turned serious. "I will go if you want to be alone. I mean, I just barged to this table uninvited and all..."

No! "No, don't! I..." He tried to stir up some courage. "I really enjoy having you with me. I'm glad you barged in."

Her eyes twinkled. "I'm glad I barged in too."

Mark laughed as if he felt like he was a little boy again. "It feels like my Bar Mitzvah all over again." He thought of his embarrassing speech that day he turned thirteen. Oh no, he thought to himself shamefully, why did my glasses have to fall off that moment?

"Are you Jewish too? How unbelievable!"

She's Jewish! Someone that can understand him. "Small world isn't it? There's always pressure from my parents to become something more... but I chose another path."

"My parents are very supportive. When they realized I wasn't going to be the doctor they wanted me to be they said, 'that's okay Michelle, you can do well as a teacher too.' That is, when I finish my college degree, which won't be happening very soon, since I just started." She stopped her speech and looked at her watch. "Oh my, look at the time, I gotta run, I have a class in like 30 minutes! It was nice meeting you."

Mark stood up as she did. Nice meeting you too... wait! Before you leave, would you... would you mind... I mean, would you like to meet up later? Maybe I can show you some of my work... if you're interested." Mark had just realized what he just said. He wanted to kick himself. Show her your work? You dork! She'll get the wrong impression!

She looked down bashfully then smiled. "Sure, I guess that will be nice. Well, you know where I live, I'll be home around four this afternoon."

"Okay, I'll meet up with you then..." Mark said this slowly, thinking about Maureen's apartment. Why couldn't she have lived somewhere else? Ah well, it didn't matter. He was lucky. He made a new friend. And a pretty one, at that. "I'll see you later... Michelle."

She smiled again, waved goodbye, and left without another word. Mark couldn't help but smile too, and he couldn't wipe it off even if he tried. He almost giggled when Mimi and Roger suddenly appeared in the seats across from him.

"Marky..." cooed Mimi, batting her eyelashes. Oh no, he thought. Here we go. And yet, he still couldn't stop smiling.

"Who was that Mark?" asked Roger. He had a sleek grin too.

"A girl... Michelle... what?" They kept staring, as if they knew something he didn't, and wanted to rub it in his face.

"Michelle, that's a pretty name," said Roger.

"Yeah, and that's a pretty girl," said Mimi.

"And you're a pretty boy," said Roger rolling his eyes at his own remark, "so what does that tell us?"

"Nothing. We're just... acquaintances."

"Tell us Mark! What does she do?" asked Mimi.

"She's a student. Epic poetry." He tried to play it off coolly.

"Epic poetry, what like... the Odyssey?"

"Ooh, perfect pronunciation, Roger," teased Mark. "Yes. She's Jewish too." Mark caught himself. He was actually bragging about her.

"Pretty, intelligent, Jewish... seems like a perfect match," said Roger. "Now tell me... she's human right? No scales or anything?"

"Haha," said Mark. "She's... something."

"Something good or something bad?" asked Mimi, leaning her chin on her knuckles, her elbows on the table.

"Good. She's cute."

Mimi squealed then laughed. "Mark! I'm so happy for you!"

"I'm not getting married." Mark looked at Roger for help, but Roger just grinned at him. Mark didn't want to show it, so he did all he could to suppress it, but he felt as pleased as Mimi. He was pretty excited.

For the rest of the afternoon, he couldn't stop thinking about Michelle. He wondered how a girl like her would ever fall for someone like him, at first glance anyway. He didn't have the style Collins had, the handsome features Roger had, the sweet lure of Mimi, the loving heart of Angel, the seductiveness of Maur...

No, Mark thought, stopping himself. It must be something else. Pity, oh God, he hoped it wasn't that. He was setting up his 35mm camera, just in case he would be needing it, when Roger knocked on his bedroom door. It was half open anyway, so he let himself in.

"Collins called," said Roger. "He's... He's moving in with Maureen." Mark didn't say anything. Hearing the name aloud hurt him. He let Roger continue. "There's going to be a home welcoming party, just so he could catch up with everyone. He expects to see you there."

Mark turned to him. "I don't know."

"Is it her?"

Mark looked to the ceiling as if he couldn't care it. "What am I going to do? I can't see her anymore. It hurts too much."

"I know." Although Roger didn't know about that night, he knew that Mark was still hurting about Maureen. "But it's Collins, man."

Mark nodded. "I'll be there." This was going to be the worse night.

"Hey, why don't you bring that Michelle chick? It would be great because she lives right there, and you wouldn't be so lonely." Mark smiled at him. He was glad Roger understood his feelings. Roger knew that he was leaving Mark alone because of Mimi.

"I think that's a great idea," said Mark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Maureen and Collins spent the rest of the day moving his baggage into her apartment. They filled nine boxes: three of clothes, six more of books. Maureen wondered where the hell they would put them, but Collins just laughed and told her not to worry about it. The next thing they needed to do was empty the small room next to Maureen's bedroom. Through the years she had lived in that apartment, Maureen used that room for storage; she put everything there she didn't have the heart to throw away. It was loaded with old clothes, bags and shoes she didn't see for years. They entered the room and she opened the window to let some air and sunshine inside. Collins stared around him, completely shocked. It suddenly dawned on Maureen that getting all of Collins' stuff up the stairs was the easy part. Now they had to clean up that damn room.

"It's pretty small," she apologized and turned to look at Collins. He still looked a little shocked by everything she kept in there.

"It's good," he assured her and gave her a little hug. "Besides, I'm sure it's bigger than you think, it's just that you have so much junk in here you can't see that." She frowned but knew that he was probably right. "I mean look at these stuff!" he added incredulously as he picked up a hideous orange and purple shirt that looked like a remnant from the 70's. "You should consider having a garage sale or something," he joked.

"Maybe we should do one, or we'll never be able to get rid of all this…" she answered, then shrugged. "What can I do? I'm sentimental! I can't just throw these things away!"

"Did you ever even WEAR these things? Gee, Maureen, I'm glad I didn't know you back than!"

"Collins, just shut up and help me put these into boxes," she said, smiling sweetly at him. He smiled back and knelt on the floor beside her. Seeing his smile, Maureen knew that her idea was perfect, for both of them. Collins was so lonely ever since Angel's death, no matter how much they all suggested their love and support. And she? She just couldn't be alone, loneliness would kill her. And having Collins there with her was better than having a cat, she realized. She didn't like cats much, anyway, so bringing Collins over WAS the perfect solution, no doubt.

Collins took another colorful shirt and looked at it thoughtfully. "What the hell where you thinking when you bought these things…"

She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself, but she bursted out laughing anyway. Soon Collins was laughing along with her. Maureen could feel how the last remainders of sadness were slowly fading away. She hardly thought of Mark anymore.

And then she started thinking about him all over again, when she suddenly remembered that woman he talked to in the Life Café earlier. Damn it.

"Maureen? Reeney? Earth to Miss Johnson…" said Collins.

Maureen's eyes snapped open. "What?" she asked weakly. What the hell was wrong with her?

"You weren't here for a second, are you okay?" asked Collins, his expression concerned.

Was she okay? Mark was only talking to that girl for five minutes, whoever she was, and why wouldn't he? He should finally let go of the past.

Besides, she was over him.

She looked at Collins and flashed him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, I'm just…" her voice trailed off, she didn't know how to finish. What was she, really?

That was absurd, Mark didn't want to have anything to do with her and she really couldn't blame him that time. Her thoughts wandered involuntarily back to that night. What happened there? How could they end up in the same bed and remember nothing of it?

"Maureen?" Collins touched her arm slightly. She turned to look at him, her gaze still somewhat perplexed. He noticed it but said nothing about it. "Look, I'll take the boxes downstairs and go get us something to eat, okay?" he asked gently. She nodded, unfocused. "Sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, go," she said quietly. Collins nodded and picked up as much boxes as he could carry in his strong arms. It was much easier now, though, because they contained mostly clothes. "Do you need help with these?" she added as he carried the boxes to the living room and put them down only to slip on his trench coat.

"No, of course not. I'll be back soon, okay?" he smiled at her, picked up the boxes again and left.

As Maureen closed the door behind him, everything went silent again, except for an ambulance's siren. Its sound was a piercing cry in the distance. Maureen shuddered. These sudden siren cries always made her think of April. The image of her friend lying pale and lifeless in that tub was still fresh and alive in Maureen's mind. She was the one who found April along with that terrible note she left behind for Roger; she was the one who called for an ambulance even though she could tell it was too late, that there was really no hope for the girl in the bath-tub.

Damn it, April, how could you, she thought, her eyes filling with tears. She moved to her bedroom and went out to the fire escape. She needed fresh air. Whenever she thought back of that night she felt as if she was suffocating. The memories haunted her for so long, it was so hard to let them go.

Roger was hysterical that night. His blood test in the hospital confirmed April's note- he had AIDS. Mark stayed with him in the hospital, next to April's body. He was nearly hysterical himself, she remembered and wiped the tears that were suddenly streaming down her face. Maureen was the only one in control on that nightmarish week. She didn't shed a single tear over her dead friend. She called April's parents and made all the funeral's arrangements. She fell completely apart when they got into the church and she saw April lying in her coffin. She looked so beautiful, peaceful, angelic. She WAS an angel now, Maureen suddenly realized, and from that moment on, she couldn't control her tears. Mark held her for the entire service, and when they got back to the loft he put her to bed and snuggled close to her until she fell asleep. She could still feel his arms around her if she tried hard enough. Their last encounter, two days ago on her doorway, was much more clear in her mind. _How does it feel being… alone?_ She had a terrible feeling she was about to find it out.

Soon Collins was back and they had a picnic of Chinese take out on the living-room floor. They still had a lot of unpacking to do, but at least Collins' room was empty and clean, so they decided to leave it for the next day. It was getting really late anyway.

"You can take the couch, or we can share my bed," said Maureen. "I don't kick or snore," she reminded with a small smile. She watched Collins as he struggled with his chopsticks, and burst out laughing. "You are the most stylish person I know but you can't even control two damn sticks!" she laughed and got up, feeling all her sore muscles in the process. "I'll get you a fork." She disappeared in the kitchen. She came back several minutes later with a fork for him, still smiling. She was amazed at the way he was able to make all her troubles and bad feelings just go away so fast.

"So tell me something, Reeney," he started, still smiling himself. "How is it that Joanne left and at the very same night Mark was already here?" His tone didn't carry the slightest accusation but rather pure amusement.

Maureen's smile disappeared at once and was replaced by a distant and contemplative expression. "Will you believe me if I tell you I have absolutely no idea?" she asked honestly.

It made Collins laugh. "Of course not."

"Well, too bad, because I don't remember," she said bitterly. Collins looked at her, suddenly intrigued. She sighed. "Joanne left and I was… I don't know, I took it really bad," she started quietly. "I got drunk, I mean, REALLY drunk, and I remember that Mark suddenly showed up here not looking so hot himself… and the next thing I know, he's in my bed when I wake up!"

Collins just kept laughing. "This is so you, not to remember something like that!" he said. His wide smile nearly cracked his face.

"Hey, it didn't end up there. We had a huge fight the next morning and then suddenly JOANNE is there to pick up her stuff!" Collins' laughter grew impossibly louder. Maureen frowned. "Collins, shut up! It's not fucking funny, they nearly killed each other in my bedroom!"

"Ah, I'd give everything to be there! Do you think maybe Mark has it on film?"

Maureen wasn't so amused. "He'd better not," she said shortly, then stopped. She didn't even remember Mark had his camera with him, and if he didn't, it made no sense. He would forget anything at home, even his wallet, but not that damn camera.

"So how did it end?" asked Collins once his laughter was finally subsided.

"Mark said some awful things to me and left me here with Joanne, who was even more awful than he was."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," said Collins gently as they moved to the kitchen to throw the empty food boxes.

Maureen shook her head. "Oh no. He did mean it. He meant it all, but I'm really okay with it, you know. I'm over him." Collins shot her a skeptical look. "Anyway, I'm glad because he finally lets go of the past. You saw him with that girl in Life earlier."

"Oh yeah, the pretty one," remarked Collins and smiled playfully. Maureen shot him a warning glare. "What, she was pretty."

"Whatever!" said Maureen and yawned, she suddenly realized how tired she was. "I'm going to take a shower and then I'm off to bed. I'm beaten." Collins mumbled something, but she no longer heard him as she slipped out of her clothes and got into the shower.

First when she heard the doorbell she thought she imagined it. It was nearly 10 and she was so exhausted she nearly fell asleep under the streaming water. "Collins, can you see who is it?" she shouted. She hoped he could hear her.

She opened her closet looking for her night shirt but couldn't find it. I really need to do some laundry soon, she thought as another item caught her eye. It was Mark's blue flannel shirt. She shrugged, then put it on. It still carried his scent, but it was really faint now.

"Hey Collins, who was that?" she asked as she padded down the hallway.

"Just… the guys," he answered carefully.

She walked into the living room, where Collins was sitting with Mimi and Roger.

"Collins man, you didn't day it was a SLUMBER party!" whined Roger, clearly amused by the way she was dressed.

Maureen suddenly realized that he might recognize Mark's shirt, but it was too late to back away and change it. She turned her gaze from Roger to Collins, totally confused. "What… party?" she asked weakly.

"My 'welcome to your new apartment' party," he answered, smiling sheepishly at her. The bastard, he _knows_ I can never resist that smile, she thought.

"Maureen, I'm really disappointed, you know," said Roger in a false serious tone.

She looked at him through tired eyes. "Why is that?"

"I honestly expected from you to go to bed with something much more… ummm… sexy and lacy, than this dorkishly old thing!" teased Roger. Mimi smacked him on his arm playfully for that , and Maureen thought he quite deserved it. She was relieved that he was too busy teasing her about the shirt to realize who it actually belonged to, for Mark often wore it. She glanced at Collins. If he recognized the shirt to be Mark's, he didn't show any sigh of it.

"We don't have anything for a party, I hardly have enough food in the fridge," she reminded him. "And it's late and I'm tired and what the hell were you all thinking, planning a party behind my back, damn it!" she started getting really upset.

"We bought some ice cream and beer on our way," said Mimi, "don't you worry about it, Maureen."

"Oh, come on, Reeney. Go change. Please? For me?" asked Collins, pouting his lips. What a dirty trick, he knows what this face does to me. She always felt like she was melting when he looked at her like that. She used the trick on Mark at their time. It always worked.

She finally relented, and headed back to her bedroom in a defeated sigh.

"Hey, where's Joanne?" asked Mimi matter-of-factly.

Maureen snorted before she let the door being shut behind her. She let Collins do the explanations, since it was his damn idea anyway. He deserved that, for pulling that surprise party out of nowhere. Something's backwards, she thought suspiciously, shouldn't I be the one throwing the party?

The doorbell rang again just as she buttoned up her jeans. Her heart quickened its pace as she heard Mark's voice among the other familiar voices in the other room. Her mind was reeling like a roller coaster. Yet she tensed as she heard another unfamiliar voice. Maureen frowned as she moved closer to the door, black shirt in hand. It was a female's voice, she realized. Was that the woman she saw with Mark at the café that morning?

Her black shirt dropped to the floor, forgotten, as Maureen strode back to her closet. Fight fire with fire, she thought as she quickly scanned her sexy tanktops' collection. Collins would get his challenge all right, she decided as she chose one shirt and pulled it over her head. It was baby blue and it showed off more than it covered, but it had more than that for a benefit, Maureen thought as she opened her bedroom door and went to join her friends; that shirt ALWAYS made Mark sweat.

Everyone fell completely silenced as Maureen entered, then conversations resumed. She ignored Collins' friends who were also there, staring at her shamelessly, and made her way to the other side of the room, where Mark and the woman were engaged in a quiet conversation. He sat with his back to her, and didn't even turn his head when she entered. She caught Collins' reassuring smile as she passed by but didn't stop. She had to get to Mark before she lost her courage. Her drama queen smile was already plastered on her face when she gently tapped on Mark's shoulder.

"Hey."

Mark turned reluctantly, casually, as if he wasn't expecting anything of what he was about to behold. His breath was caught in his throat when he took in her appearance. Her smile broadened. That shirt still had her magic, after all. "Maur… Maureen?"

"The one and only! What's up? Nice of you to stop by!"

He looked surprised, nearly thunder stricken. Maureen wasn't sure whether it was because of her shirt or because of the fact that she was actually speaking to him again, but it didn't really matter. "Umm… I stopped by for Collins… now if you don't mind…" he said, gesturing at the woman who was sitting awkwardly next to him.

Maureen's eyes narrowed for a split second as she took in the woman's appearance. Yes, she was very pretty, in a dorkish kind of way, just Mark's style, and she had glasses too. Boy, these two are a match made in heaven. She pushed that bitter thought away and flashed her sweetest smile in the woman's direction. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met! Marky, what's wrong with your manners? I'm sure your mother taught you better than that!" she teased, smacking his arm playfully.

Mark couldn't do much but stare at her. He looked completely hopeless, as if he wasn't sure how he should react. He turned to the woman and smiled apologetically at her. Then he looked back at Maureen. He was sweating already, she noticed in great satisfaction. "Maureen, this is Michelle... Michelle, Maureen. Michelle is studying epic poetry, and Maureen here... well she does her breasts... I mean best!" he blushed deep red, and shook his head. He looked very much embarrassed. "Now, Maureen, if you don't mind?" he hissed.

"Actually, I need to steal you away for a second, if _you_ don't mind?" she turned her look from Mark to Michelle. She didn't really wait for Michelle's approvement, just tugged at Mark's shirt and pulled him away.

"Maureen… what's going on?" he asked weakly as she dragged him to the hallway.

"I need to talk to you for a second, come on!"

He frowned at her, then remember something and looked over her shoulder. "Please excuse us! I'll be right there!" then he turned to face Maureen again, clearly upset.

"Don't you worry, she won't go anyway..." she said cheerfully. "So what is epic poetry anyway?"

Mark raised one suspicious eyebrow at her question. "It's the study of ancient storytelling in the forms of stylistic... hey what do you care, anyway?"

She giggled. "I don't!"

"Maureen, this is nonsense, I'm going to go," he said, but failed in sounding determined. His voice actually trembled.

She gave him a second to pull himself together before she hit again. "Hey, wait!" she said, grabbed his shirt and pulled him against the wall. Then she moved closer to him, until their lips nearly touched. "I said… I needed to talk…" she murmured against his ear.

He swallowed, hard, but didn't push her away. "Maureen, have you… been drinking again?" he asked weakly.

She pretended to be offended. "Me? I'm not drunk, what makes you say that!"

He smirked. "Well, when your lesbian ex-girlfriend tells you to shove off, then pushes you against the wall... you begin to suspect things. No, seriously now, Maureen, I dunno what you're trying to do but..." he started, trying to slip away.

Maureen wouldn't let him go. She couldn't. He couldn't resist her, she could tell, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. So she did the only thing she knew that would make him stay. She pouted her lips and flashed her best smile at him. "I just want to talk. Please? For a minute?"

Now he looked panicked. "Go! Talk! Make it quick!"

She came closer to him again and tugged at his shirt, as if she was trying to smooth an invisible wrinkle. He followed her hand as if hypnotized. She could feel his heartbeat quicken under her touch. When he was well distracted, she started speaking in a low, seductive voice. "I just wanted to... apologize... for what happened two days ago. You just ran off and didn't give me time to explain... or apologize... but we're friends. I want us to stay friends, whatever happens." She started slipping her hand down his chest, never breaking eye contact.

"Maureen!" he shrieked suddenly, "Maureen... stop... that tickles!"

He was so adorable, pulling that dorkish six-year-old act, she had to fight her involuntary impulse to grab him and kiss him. She pulled her most innocent expression on and moved closer again. "What, I'm not doing anything…" she murmured, "So what do you say, Marky?… friends?"

"I… I say…" She didn't give him a chance and started tickling him all over again. He flinched and tried to move away from her grasp, but there was no where to go, for he was still standing against the wall. "STOP! Let me go, Maureen!" he laughed. They were both breathless when she finally stopped. "Are you crazy?"

She got him trapped, her two arms snaking around his waist, so he really couldn't go anywhere. She shot him a playful look and whispered seductively, "I don't think I am… what do you think?…"

He was sweating, and she was sure his heart would burst into million pieces in a moment, but instead he looked at her, very serious all of a sudden.

"I can't do this, please, Maureen… stop…"

Her smile gradually faded. She slowly removed her hands from his waist. Not that she didn't expect that, but she really got into it by now. "Okay, I just… wanted us to be friends again."

"You know... I don't think I can do that," he said softly before he started going away. She stared at him for a second, then pulled herself together and hurried after him. When she caught up with him, right before he stepped back into the living room, she slapped his ass.

"Love that jeans, by the way!"

That slap caught Mark completely off guard. He stumbled forward, tripping on his own feet. Luckily, he didn't fall flat on his face in the process. He turned to her and shot her an irritated look, then entered the living room without further words.

Maureen was still a little breathless herself as she leaned against the wall and took several slow, even breaths until the rhythm of her heart steadied. She would kill Collins the next day, but it was surely worth it. She smiled victoriously. The last word was hers again.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N- thanks again guys for your reviews, you rock! letmefly, that April scene from the previous chapter led me to write my one-shot, and not the other way around, but thanks anyway! always glad to read your compliments!**

**speaking of one-shots, check out Fae's one-shot The Ultimate Price!**

**back to the story now... in case you were wondering, the party's not over yet... and it's Marky's turn! enjoy! review!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Mark rubbed his backside, feeling the numbing _schlapp _Maureen had just given him. He sat back down with Michelle who wore a curious expression perched upon her jeweled eyes. Mark scratched his head and smiled meekly.

"I don't know what that was about," he said, "but I assure you, it was nothing. I'm really sorry."

She looked down uncomfortably, but then chuckled. "It's all right." She looked up at him, unsure at first, then asked something he wasn't expecting. "Is there something going on between you two?"

Mark shook his head vigorously. "No. Nothing."

She nodded, but suddenly looked away carefully. She pursed her lips and became silent, as if she had other things on her mind. Mark started to feel a shower of guilt and he knew that he couldn't be dishonest with her.

"Michelle, I have to tell you," said Mark doubtfully. He swallowed his nerves, but it felt as if he was going to develop a stutter. "Maureen and I... we were... we used to s-see each other and... it didn't work as p-planned."

"Was it mutual?" she asked quietly.

"We just liked different things. She liked strawberry, I liked vanilla. She liked big crowds, I liked small groups. She liked to make a scene, I just liked to film them."

"Didn't you have anything in common?"

"Oh yeah... women."

"Oh." She nodded as if she understood. She took a sip of her drink, and sniffed. "I don't know why anybody would leave a great guy like you. You're so adorable and kind... and well, I think she's missing out."

He smiled bashfully. "Thanks. You're sweet."

"Hello Mark."

Mark turned his head to see Collins standing right beside him. He gave Mark a broad smile and sat down next to him.

"Well, she's pretty," commented Collins looking at Michelle. She giggled and tried not to look at him. She began to turn a slight red.

"Collins this is Michelle. Michelle, this here is Tom Collins, one of the greatest, most intelligent, and caring beings on the planet," introduced Mark.

"Aw, thanks Mark, but you don't have to be so modest about me. I'm also quite handsome, open-minded and all with the drive of acting up and fighting aids." Michelle laughed and Mark felt relieved. "It's nice to meet you, Michelle."

"It's nice to meet you too."

Collins laid a firm hand on Mark's shoulder. "So Mark... you and Maureen... okay?"

"We're... sort of not speaking."

"Really? I saw some, um, action going on there."

"I think she's crazy, I don't know what she has under her sleeve, but I'm not buying it."

"I think it's what's under her breasts that counts, don't you think so?"

Mark felt a shiver down his spine and his cheeks turning warm. He wondered what Collins was trying to pull and prayed that he would stop, whatever moral lesson he had in mind. He knew he meant well, but he just wanted the humiliation to stop.

"Collins, please don't-"

"What do you think of her shirt?" asked Collins. "Do you think it's a perfect fit?"

"I d-don't know, I guess they're a perfect tit- fit! Oh damnit..." he said under his breath, and hung his head down it sheer mortification. He bit his tongue from screaming at himself for letting such a thing slip, and didn't dare glance over at Michelle or Collins. He shut his eyes tight, hoping for a moment, that Collins didn't have anything else in store.

"My, you've answered my thoughts while talking about something completely different. You truly are a philosopher's dummy," Mark heard Collins tell him, as he frayed his messy blonde hair. "I have to talk to you later, but now... kareoke!"

Mark's head shot up frantically, hearing that horrible seven-letter word. He reached his hand out, getting a hold of Collins' shirt which was untidily tucked out of his washed out blue jeans.

"Collins... not..."

"Mark, you must know that every party has to have kareoke. Especially if I'm hosting the party." He grinned stupidly again, and Mark knew he didn't stand a chance in convincing him to stop the madness. He'd rather have danced in his underwear with a lampshade on his head... Mark pressed his lips. Note to self: Burn that reel.

Everyone gathered around the living space while Collins turned on the kareoke set. Everyone had smiles on, all except for Mark whose nerves were running wild. He was not what one would call a decent singer, or a singer at that. He sucked, and might he add, sucked badly. He instantly knew that he was not going to be the type of father that would sing his little child to sleep, but the type who would buy a jazz singer to lullaby the kid. Roger, Mimi, and Maureen occupied the big sofa, while Collins' friends didn't mind the floor. Michelle took the reclining chair, while Mark sat on the edge of her hand rest. Collins untangled the microphone, and tested it quickly. He then plastered that funny grin again, and eyed them speculatively.

"Who's going to be brave and go first?" he asked.

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious who should go first," said Roger, stretching his arms out slickly. "It should be the... ahem... most experienced. The best singer in this room."

"I wouldn't call myself the best," said Collins kicking the floor in a false bashful way, "but thanks for the compliment." Roger shot him a playful look. "All right, Roger, you can go first! Ladies and gentlemen, lezzies and gays, AZT takers... and well Mark..." Laughter ensued. "Here I present to you one of the greatest rock and roll performers you'll never hear of... Rrrrrrrooogerr!"

"Thank you, thank you," said Roger, whistles and cheers picking him up as he stood. Collins tossed him the mic, who then took a seat next to Maureen. He winked at Roger, signaling that he was ready with the remote, whatever song he chose.

"I would like to dedicate this song to Mimi..."

"It's not Your Eyes again, is it?" asked Collins, in a sort of whiny tone. "Because I think we're all sick of that song." They all laughed.

"No, it's not Your Eyes, genius, but I'd like to also take this opportunity to thank you, Tom Collins, for killing the mood." More laughter. "It's a song that I think of every time I lay beside my Mimi."

"He thinks he's in some lounge, but he's not," whispered Mimi. Everyone giggled.

"Here's to you, Miss Marquez, _Open Arms_" announced Roger, in an over exaggerated Elvis type gyrate. A soft piano began to play in the background. "_Lying beside you, here in my arms..._" he continued the song with such beauty, and Mark knew Mimi felt the passion in his voice. The way she stared at him, the way she listened, Mark knew she loved him dearly. Everyone was silent during his serenade until...

"_And so now I come to you, with open arms... La da da da... here by my side... and I don't know the words, but it doesn't matter..." _Everyone laughed and then started booing him off. He grinned, and took a bow. They all applauded because despite not knowing the words, he was one hell of a singer. He took one final encore, and sang,

"You can see it in my eyes!" before handing it to Collins.

"How could you not know the words to that song?" asked Collins. "All right, by popular request, Maureen and I are going to sing-"

"Popular request?" asked Roger.

"Shut up Roger, I have the mic," said Collins. Mark caught Michelle laughing, and he smiled. At least she was having a good time. Perhaps this kareoke thing wasn't so bad after all... that is until Collins points the mic at him.

"A favorite of mine- _Ain't No Mountain High Enough_. Hit it!" The music started to come up from the speakers, and a clap to the beat arose.

"_Listen baby! Ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low, ain't no river wide enough baby!"_ His baritone filled the room as he gestured to Maureen. Then she sang.

"_If you need me call me, no matter where you are, no matter how far, baba-ay_." A new smile crept onto Mark's lips. When Maureen wasn't overreacting, her voice contained a great rhythm of jazz and blues, beauty and sexiness that could turn anyone on. He would kick himself tomorrow for noticing Maureen, but for now he just wanted to enjoy her singing. She had so much talent, and grace, and...

He really was going to hate himself tomorrow because now he wished he had his camera. It were moments like these where he missed the old days. He was very well aware that those days were very much over, but reliving them from time to time was nice. And it wasn't everyday that they were together singing kareoke in a somewhat undisturbed, tolerable manner. Shit, now he was really eager to find his camera. At first he kept telling himself that it was just a camera and that it could be replaced. Also, he didn't want Roger's well-predicted "I told you you would cry if you ever lose you camera" speech nagging at him all day, all week, for the rest of his life. But this time... he wanted his camera! He needed it to live, to survive, to...

"_Ain't no mountain hi-igh! Yeah!" _They both ended the song as Mark came back to reality. The last note was raspy and sweet for Collins, and high and soulful for Maureen. The room rocked with applause and cheers. Collins gave Maureen a bear hug, and they took a minute to take a couple of well deserved bows. Even Mark clapped, though he tried to convince himself that it was mostly for Collins. Maureen took her seat, and Collins again played Master of Ceremonies.

"Ooohh Marky..." he cooed and Mark covered his face. Everyone started wooing, and he could tell that he turned a bright red. And this was the time where Mark was glad he lost his camera. "Guess who's turn it is..."

"No..."

"Come on Marky," seconded Roger, poking his sides. "It's your turn!"

"Really, no..."

"I'll sing with you Mark," said Michelle.

"What?" asked Mark.

"GREAT!" exclaimed Collins. "What would you like to sing?"

"Michelle, I'm not a very good singer..."

"You'll do fine," she assured. She took the mic from Collins, and stood up. Roger pulled Mark up beside her, and then took his seat. He could hardly hold still, he was so excited seeing his friend give a performance.

"Anything you want Collins," said Michelle, as Mark tried to stop from shuddering. A river of shivers streamed down his body, and it didn't stop. His teeth started chattering which earned a few giggles from everyone.

"_A Whole New World_ should be easy. Everyone knows that song," said Collins. "Presenting... Mark and Michelle."

The familiar melody to that oh so popular Disney tune came about, and Mark felt his throat tighten up. He couldn't make an idiot out of himself and just stand there like a party wrecking goof. But he knew when it came to singing, he was stuck in his Bar Mitzvah year. It was like a singing Mickey Mouse and Popeye the Sailor Man trying to pry in now and again.

"_I c-can show you the world_..." he managed to croak out softly. "_Shining, shimmering, splendid...tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide_?" when he wasn't croaking, he was either off tune, or inconsistent with the melody. Then the higher notes came. "_A whole new wo-erld_." There went a crack, and Mark winced. He tried to continue with an little pain possible, but he couldn't seem to drown out the fits of giggles coming from behind him. "_... or where to go, or say we're only dreaming_." Phew. He got through the first part.

"_A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew. But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear, that now I'm in a whole new world with you_." Michelle looked at Mark with adoration, and Mark's jaw nearly dropped. She had a gorgeous voice. Everyone became silent to listen to the rest of the song. As she went on, Mark felt like he had this stupid look attached on his face that he couldn't get rid of. She sang with such ease that she didn't even have a hard time with the higher notes. Everyone gawked in such awe, that they hardly minded when Mark finished the song with her. When the song ended, a standing ovation almost knocked the ceiling off. Mark didn't bow, but allowed Michelle to take all the credit.

"Michelle, what a voice, a great addition to the gang!" said Collins, welcoming her into a hug. Mark sighed. At least they liked her.

"Yeah, but Mark, you sucked as always," laughed Roger. "I think I heard Roger Bart turning in his grave."

"Roger Bart isn't dead, idiot!" one of Collins' friend claimed.

"And it was _Brad Kane_!" another corrected.

"You college graduates have to nitpick everything huh?" asked Roger.

"At least I didn't forget the words," Mark backfired, and smiled. Roger flashed him his teeth, and then wrapped his arm around Mimi.

"Your turn, Mimi," said Roger, and kissed her cheek.

"Okay, but trust me. I'm bad... but I do it well," she said looking at Mark. Mark and Michelle took their seat, and Mimi did a bit of her dance for Roger, who was beaming proudly. She winked at Collins, and he got the signal. A sad, mournful air of music flowed in the room.

"_Every night in my dreams, I see you... I fe-e-e-el you.. That is how I know you..go o-o-on..._" She sang the words as if she was trying to mimic a great jazz legend, and although she was just as bad as Mark, she made everyone laugh. Now and then in the song, she swung her hair exaggeratedly, and wind-milled her hands convulsively, which reminded Mark of something Maureen would do. Luckily, no one else caught that similarity.

"_YOU'RE heeeerreeee...there's NOOTTHIINNGG I fee-e-ear, and I know my heart will go o-uh-uh-on..._" She was now kneeling in front of Roger, and had a tight hold of his shirt with a kind of passionate rage. "_WE'LL staaaayyy...forEVER this wa-ah-ay! You are SAFE-" _One step up. "_-in my HEART-" _Another step up. She was fully standing. "_And M-UH-AY heart will go ooonnnn and..._" Suddenly a loud fuse popped, gasps were heard, and the music died. Apparently she had kicked the chord out of all the excitement and overdramatic body language, and pulled the plug. Bursts of laughter erupted.

"Umm... thank you!" she said, and smiled widely. Everyone clapped, but there was more snorting and laughing than clapping.

"Great job, Mimi." Mark smirked. He suddenly turned to Roger. "Don't start."

Roger shook his head and started to do a horrible imitation of his dorky friend.

"_A whole nn-e-w wooorrllll- croak!_" For some reason, everyone found this a riot and began doing their own version of him. Lost and oblivious of their conversation, Mark tried to slip away without anyone noticing. He held Michelle's hand as he lead her toward the door.

"Would you like to go some where a bit more... peaceful?" asked Mark.

"Sure... how about my place? It's right down the hall."

"Um, sure." Mark knew that Michelle was a bit too innocent for the game they'd usually be playing in these type situations, so Mark agreed. Besides he wasn't the type of guy who would pull anything like that on a first date. They stole away as quietly as possible, and entered Michelle's apartment two doors away. As they stepped in, Mark paid her a compliment.

"You really sang beautifully. Why don't you go into Broadway or some other. You're in the right place anyway."

"Singing is more of a hobby. Oh shoot!"

"What?" he asked sort of absent-mindedly. Her place was awfully neat. Everything was a light color, it seemed that her favorite color was green, since everything was either lime colored or an aqua like turquoise. A lot of her furnishings were quite expensive, and Mark wondered why she didn't live in any place a bit more fancy. Her parents probably send her money every month; everything looked so classy. A frightened feeling snuck behind his neck. Could he afford a girl like her?

"The frame fell, see," she walked over to the leather sofa, and picked up a frame sitting on the couch. She took off her heels, and stepped onto the couch, and reached the frame up, trying to hook the frame to it. "Hmm... I remember being taller than this..."

Mark admired her for a second, then remembered his manners. "Here, let me do it."

"I've got it, I just need... to stand... on my tiptoes," she grunted and kept missing the nail. Mark stepped onto the couch and stood behind her. He was much taller, and he towered over her. He took the frame from her hands, and hooked the frame easily.

"Thanks," she said, and Mark made a sly move that he took from Roger. This better work, or I'll kill Roger in the morning, thought Mark abjectly. As he took one step down, to give her room, his hands followed down her arms, touching her skin gently. His fingers slid down the side of her waist, down her hips, and he placed his hands there as he brought himself down from the sofa. However, she stayed up there to straighten the frame, and observed it thoughtfully. Mark tried not to stare at her lovely blue jeans that were curving sexily up her thighs and swerving slightly...

"How's the view from down there?" she spoke softly.

"Huh?" Mark blushed. "It's lovely... I mean... what view?"

"You were looking at my ass, weren't you?" she asked, and Mark helped her down. She looked at him fondly.

"No! I mean... I've seen better... no, that's not what I mean. Mimi... I mean. " Mark sighed and gave up. "It's very nice."

She laughed, and took his hands carefully. "You're not a singer, I admit, but...do you dance?"

"I try... I can waltz alright, tango..." he trailed off.

"Then let's dance," she said, and turned on the radio beside her television. A soft jazz orchestra played, and she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands lingered down her hips. She laid her head on his chest, and they both listened to their soft breathing, as they swayed carefully to the music. He pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her skin on his, her elegant scent of perfume climbing cohering on his clothes. For a blissful moment, he was in heaven. His fingers made their way to the hem of her shirt, and he played with it cautiously.

"Don't," she whispered. He stopped, and ran his fingers down her back.

"I wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want me to," he said softly. And until the party ceased next door, they danced in each other's arms: A waltz, instead of a tango.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

It took Maureen nearly all day, the next day, to brew enough courage to return the blue flannel shirt to its owner. Although she had told Mark she'd burn it, she knew that she would never dare do such a thing, and that saying she would suddenly seemed very rash. Besides, it was only fair, under the circumstances; Mark said some terrible things to her, too. _Burn the past. Burn us_. _Maybe it's better that way_. She still couldn't believe he actually told her that. She knew she'd never forget the expression on his face when he did. It wasn't pure hate, or anything of that kind- it was a mixture of bitterness, distance and complete blankness, the kind of expression one would never expect Mark to have. She really believed that he meant everything he had said, up until that flirting incident at the party the night before. Going beyond Mark's typical (yet very cute) embarrassment and ignoring the fact that he avoided her for the entire time afterwards, Maureen could definitely feel it. The old spark was obviously still there.

That fact changed everything, as far as Maureen was concerned. If anything, it had left her even more confused than she already was. When she first dumped Mark and became a lesbian, she honestly thought she could never be with a man again, that no man can excite or satisfy her the way Joanne, as a woman, did. Especially not Mark. But then again... being so close to him the way she was... it changed whatever she came to believe in so far. It felt so right. Yes, it started as a totally innocent game, but it soon got to a point where it wasn't a game anymore, and they both knew it. There was something electrifying about it, Maureen had no doubts Mark felt it too, or he wouldn't have run off. Until he did, it was just like old times again. She suddenly found herself missing old times.

Who are you, Maureen Johnson? She asked herself wistfully as she got out of the subway station. She was momentarily blinded by the afternoon sun. She wore her sunglasses and headed to Mark and Roger's building. Who the hell am I? The question still echoed mercilessly in her mind as she got to the building. And she had no good answer to it, she suddenly realized.

When she left Mark for Joanne, becoming a lesbian seemed like the right thing to do, but now? She wasn't even sure what she was anymore. It was quite terrifying, not knowing who and what you are, she thought as she climbed up the stairs, passing Mimi's apartment, on her way to their loft on the top floor.

She didn't even think of what would she tell him if he'd been there. They didn't speak to one another for the rest of the party, but she heard from Collins that he seemed happy with that girl Michelle. Their attempt to leave the party unnoticed last night had failed, for Maureen did notice them slipping out of her apartment, but said nothing. His parents would love Michelle, especially that awful father of his. Not only because she was Jewish, but also because she went to college, she was educated and polite, she didn't smoke or drink. She was everything that Maureen wasn't. AND she could sing, like she wasn't perfect enough without having such a wonderful voice. She was the perfect addition for Mark's perfect family. Maureen actually met her in the hallway that morning, and Michelle was the sweetest she could be, and had that small satisfied grin that refused to leave her face. That grin made Maureen so upset without her even being aware of it.

God, what is wrong with me?

She should be happy for him, she knew that. She left him, he was greatly traumatized by that for so long and now he was finally getting over it. He finally found himself the nice girl his parents always hope he'd find... a girl just like him. She needed to be very happy, even if that meant that he'd marry Michelle and leave New York to live with her and their perfect family somewhere in the suburbs, with their three perfect children and their perfect small dog.

Oh, what are you thinking! He's not marrying her, for God's sake, he's known her for, what, two days now! This is Mark! She'll be lucky if he's willing to sleep with her before they are engaged!

Oh, shit, IS he sleeping with her?...

Maureen hesitated near their door, clutching the paper bag to her chest for support. She could hear the sound of Roger's guitar from the other side of the door. Was Mark there, too?

She knocked, but no one answered. She knocked again, louder, and that time the music ceased. There was a rustle on the other side as if someone was coming closer to the door, the sound of a the knob turning, and the door opened. Roger stood there staring at her, his expression both surprised and suspicious. He looked as if he had just woke up, but then again, that was Roger. He always looked like that.

"Maureen? Hi," he said, a bit puzzled, as if she had never been her there before.

Maureen managed a weak smile. "Hey, Roger." He still looked somewhat puzzled. "What?"

"Ummm... nothing." There was the slightest suspicion in his voice, though he desperately tried to conceal it with a smile. Nonetheless, Maureen noticed it. "What's up?" he asked. "Missed me already?"

She flashed him a flirtacious grin. "I always miss YOU, Roger." She suddenly realized that they were still standing on his doorway, and he didn't show the slightest intention of letting her in. "Are you gonna ask me in?"

Roger stared at her for a second, then moved aside. "Oh, right, come in, sorry," he mumbled. He closed the door behind them and they just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, carefully glancing at one another. It was an ill-chosen situation; Maureen knew he was still mad at her for the way she ended her relationship with Mark. She couldn't blame him. Mark was his best friend and she knew how much she hurt him. Not only did she leave him, but it was for another woman, of all things. Strange, she didn't really care about it at the time. She had never thought of how much it'd hurt him, she just dropped the bomb on him and left the next day. Yes, she and Roger still talked from time to time, but it wasn't like before. Now his tone always carried that cold, distant intonation, or he was just acting weird next to her, just as he did at the moment.

Okay, we won't get anywhere unless I take control over here, she thought and moved into their living-room. He followed her silently, and she knew he was asking himself what the hell was she doing there. She hadn't been there for several months. The last time she had been there was on New Year Eve, when she and Joanne brought Mimi there, after they found her in the park.

"Can I..." she started, motioning at their sofa. His acoustic guitar leaned against the coffee table.

That seemed to break his numb state of mind as he realized what she meant and quickly nodded. "Oh, yeah, sure, sit down." She did. Roger followed. "Did... did Collins send you here for something?"

Maureen wrinkled her forehead. Does he think I'm Collins' messenger girl? "No... he didn't, why?"

"Because... you're here. Was there something you needed?"

She ignored the sarcasm his voice carried. "Yes, actually there was. I mean is. There's something I needed to bring back here... for Mark," she looked over her shoulder. "Where is he, by the way?" she added matter-of-factly.

Roger shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "He's not here," he answered quickly.

Too quickly, Maureen noticed. She raised an eyebrow and did her best looking surprised. "Oh? Started going out again, hasn't he?"

Roger looked at her strangly. "He's been out... when we were at your house the other night, remember? Technically he was inside, but he was out of the house. His house, that is."

He was rambling. He could be really stupid if he tried hard enough. Maureen felt like rolling her eyes. Did she make him nervous? "O-kay... ummm... do you think I can leave this in his bedroom?" she asked, gesturing the bag in her arms. "Or maybe there's someone there?"

"Who would be there?"

"I dunno..." Think! Quick! She let out a nervous laughter. "Not him, cause he's not home, and not you obviously because you're with me... me... Mimi!" Stupid, what the hell are you doing! Now she was the one who was rambling. She felt like kicking herself.

His eyebrows knotted together. "No... Mimi's not here... and if she was here in a bedroom, it was most likely be mine... Hey wait, what's in the bag anyway?"

"I just found some of his stuff when we cleaned up Collins' new room. I thought he might want them back."

"How... nice of you," said Roger slowly. Maureen could feel his cold gaze drilling through her. "Sure, you can leave it in his bedroom if you'd like, or just anywhere around here."

"No, his bedroom is just fine!" she looked around her. "So... is everything okay around here? I haven't been here for a while, is it still... the two of you, or...?"

"Yeah it's just the two of us... well right now it's one half of us... umm well it's just me so it's just one of us."

"Yeah, but I mean, I'm sure Mimi spends her a lot of time and maybe some... other people.."

He looked distant for a moment, as if he was thinking about what she had said. "No one else has been here as far as I know. Oh! Muffy's mobsters came over to collect the rent... and then the mailman came too..."

Maureen frowned. Of course she didn't mean that. Was he really that stupid? Why couldn't he answer that simple question? Did Michelle spend her nights there, in Mark's bed? Wait a minute... what 'nights'? Are you insane? They've known each other since fucking yesterday! She shook herself mentally and concentrated the matter in hand. She had to get details out of Roger... well, somehow. "You don't happen to know when he's coming back, right, Roger?" she asked, somewhat impatient.

"Oh, he planned something for the rest of the afternoon..." he picked up his guitar. "And he has other plans for tonight..." he strummed some random chords before he bursted out singing. "He's gonna go O-UUUT tonight..." Maureen shot him an irritated glare. "Sorry..." he mumbled as he let go of the guitar. "Blame it on my girl, she's got me acting... well, my mind's been everywhere..."

Yeah, like I couldn't notice that. "So did he go to see his parents or...?"

"His parents? Oh, no, this is something special. He's going to... ummm... Heaven's Bistro, you know, that old restaurant."

Maureen's jaw nearly dropped. That was one of the most expensive places in the city. Could he even afford that! "Really? What's the ocassion?"

Roger had that silly wide grin on his face that Maureen knew she wasn't supposed to see, yet she did. And she knew exactly what it meant. She predicted his answer even before he said it.

"Well, he's gonna get laid... paid! I mean paid! From this family... Johansen family portrait."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who is this... family who's gonna... pay him?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Johansen, the parents of Danielle and, ummm... ummm... shit, I forgot, it started with an M... Mandy, Melissa, Mindy..."

"Mimi, Maureen, Mich-" The phone rang, making both of them jump off their seats. Maureen leaned back with a frustrated sigh. Damn it, I was so close to something!

Roger, on the other hand, looked very much relieved. "Oh, look! Phone! 'scuse me while we screen, Maureen..." Speak...

"Hey Roger," said Mark's voice from somewhere. It sounded like a noisy street. "Ummm, dunno if you're there, but I forgot my wallet, again... so can you please drop by the flower shop to drop it off, I can't pay for Miche-"

Roger literally launched himself towards the phone and snatched the reciever before Maureen even had a chance to blink. "MARK! Yeah, hey! I'll be RIGHT there!" he was already on his way out, slipping on his leather jacket and grabbing Mark's wallet, which was, she could tell now, on the coffee table. "Sorry, Maureen... I have to run an errand... just leave it in Mark's bedroom, lock the door behind you and hide the key in its usual place," he left hastily.

Maureen stared at the door for a second, then slowly got up and walked towards Mark's bedroom. She tried not to think about the endless times she's been there. You'll leave the shirt in the closet and go, he doesn't even have to know you were there, she told herself as she opened the door to his room.

Nothing had changed. Mark's bedroom was still a hopeless mess. Film reels, screenplays and clothes were scattered everywhere until you could hardly notice the room actually had a floor, and Maureen tried not to step on anything on her way to his closet. She took the shirt out of its paper bag and opened the closet.

She was nearly bonked over the head with a box that fell out of nowhere.

Luckily, the box missed her head by several inches, for Maureen moved aside by instinct, repressing a terrified shriek. The box fell noisily on the floor but didn't open. Damn it, what WAS that!

She quickly glanced at the door, which she left half open in case Roger would come back, and then knelt to pick up the box. It nearly got me killed, I HAVE to see what's in it, she decided as she put it on Mark's bed. She placed the neatly folded shirt next to it, and then carefully lifted the lid off the box.

Just some old-looking notes and letters, and photos. So many of them. Mark was a great photographer. When he wasn't playing with his old video camera he played with that one. He took pictures of everything, from birds on trees in Central Park to beautiful sunsets and rainbows. Maureen couldn't prevent the smile that slowly appeared on her face. He was so good at that.

And then she realized that the box didn't contain these photos. She took out some of them and stared at them for a moment in utter confusion. From a reason she still couldn't quite figure out, these photos were all of... her.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the first one she held. It was of her, April and Roger, standing proudly near a sand castle of their creation. It was that weekend when they all went to the beach, and Collins couldn't join them because he couldn't get off from work. Right after he took that picture, she remembered, Mark put the camera back in its case and they started chasing each other like crazy, until finally they landed, in each other's arms, on the top of that castle...

Then there was a picture of her and April, in a middle of wild laughter, somewhere in the city near the infamous naked cowboy. He had nothing but a guitar, tightie whities, and a cowboy hat, that Roger stole afterwards. Roger looked pretty good in that hat, nearly as good as that cowboy itself. He got it back eventually, though he snatched it impatiently, and April even had the chance to pinch the handsome cowboy's ass... and three weeks later April was gone. It was their last picture together. Did she already know that they had AIDS when the picture was taken? How could she have such an honest smile if she did? Maureen stared at her frozen smile and tried to find it, the tiniest hint to what was about to happen, but couldn't. And April was no longer. So were her and Mark.

More photos... Some wonderful facial close ups of her, that Mark insisted on doing on the coldest day of the year in Central Park... and that photo that she took of him, looking dorkishly at her behind the camera's lense. It seemed to be the only picture of him in that box. It was an awfully unprofessional close up, yet Maureen was very proud of her work. She could read everything in his expression. It was a mixture of devotion and happiness and love ... Maureen snatched that picture without thinking and put it quickly in her bag. Hopefully, he wouldn't even notice.

She looked thoughtfully at the last one. It was marked May 14th. Her birthday. It was a great picture of the two of them that Collins took, after her small birthday show at the Life Cafe. She looked at her picture self. That Maureen looked so happy and careless, like nothing bothered her. She looked so much... in love.

Maureen dropped the photo and it silently fell back into the box. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the lid on top of the box. She put it back in the closet, on an upper shelf from which she thought it fell, then closed it, grabbed her bag, and left the room hastily.

She locked their door and left the key under a loosen tile on the floor, then raced down the stairs and into the street. Only then she released the breath she didn't even know she was holding.

It wasn't a long walk to her apartment, so she decided to save the subway fare that time. She needed some fresh air anyway. She needed to think.

Damn it, what had just happened there!

Why would Mark keep these photos? And in that separate box and not with the rest of his photography stuff? Why didn't he burn them or simply throw them away?

And most importantly, why was her heart racing over some silly old photos of the two of them?...

Soon she was back at her apartment. Luckily she didn't bump into Michelle in the hallway. She saw the note that Collins left for her the moment she walked into her bedroom- _Reeney, I'm doing some reaserch in the library and then I'm off to the loft to see the guys. I'll bring some pizza for dinner so hold on. Later, Collins_.

She kicked the Doc Martins off her feet and to the other end of the room. She took Mark's picture out of her bag and hid it inside her dresser, in a carved wooden music box. That was a present from him, too, she suddenly remembered, and slammed the dresser's drawer. She dropped herself on her bed with a sigh and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to wipe Mark's image off her mind.

Oh, damn it, why is he everywhere? Was she so distracted by Joanne up until now that she couldn't notice it? Now that she was alone, there was nothing that would keep her distracted, nowhere she could hide, and it seemed like Mark's presence was haunting her.

I must stop thinking about it somehow, she decided and got up. Just... do something else. On her way to the living-room she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She stopped there to look at her for a moment.

"Who are you?" Her voice, though not higher than a whisper, echoed in the empty room. Maureen's only answer was the jingling sound of the wind chimes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi all, sorry it took us forever to update, it's been a really crazy week, but here it is now- read, review, enjoy… thanks!**

**Chapter Eleven**

"Thank God," said Mark as Roger entered the flower shop, tossing his wallet to him.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me?" he asked, grinning. Mark huffed acknowledging his antic, and fumbling the wallet before he grasped it properly. He was a bit jittery than usual. He took out a couple of bills and paid the clerk for a half a dozen dahlias. Roger eyed him curiously, as Mark embraced the flowers with one arm.

"How could you afford...?"

"Savings account. My mom still adds to it every month, but it's getting less and less. I add to it too, and I was going to save that money for a new camera, solely on a new camera... but I need the dough. Plus, I'm counting on the Johansen's so it's going to make up for it." Mark stuffed the receipt in his pocket, and started heading out the door.

"Mark wait, I have to tell you something."

"Can it wait Roger?" Mark was in a hurry. It felt as if time was racing him for some reason. He had scheduled something with Michelle, but he was afraid that he was going to be late. And then he forgot his wallet, which stalled more time... dammit, why do I do this? Mark thought miserably. He noticed Roger staring.

"What?" he asked.

"I have to tell you something... look, we need to talk."

"I really have to go, can we do this later?" pleaded Mark. Roger looked at him and rolled his eyes.

"Go. Have fun."

"Thanks. See you later." Mark hurried out as soon as he could. His head was spinning. All he could think of last night, as soon as he got to bed, was Michelle. He hadn't felt this way for a while, and that urge of pleasure coming about from his early years of puberty were finally emerging again. If he wasn't so embarrassed, he would have skipped to Michelle's apartment. Even the fact that Maureen lived so nearby didn't bother him as much. He only hoped that his hair was okay, or that he didn't have a stupid grin on. Speaking of stupid grins... Collins walked out of the apartment building, stopping in front him.

"Mark. Beautiful flowers. For a beautiful girl right?" asked Collins.

"Yeah. They're for Michelle." He could feel his cheeks turning red.

"Aww... really? I would have hoped that they were for someone else... anyway hey!" Collins plucked Mark's checkered button-down shirt, and shook his head disappointedly. "You cannot go in looking like that."

"Collins, I don't have time for fashion tips. We're going to a matinee show, then later tonight I have to pick her up for dinner-"

"Great, then I can go shopping and when you get home, you'll have ten ensembles to choose from for your dinner date!"

"You really don't have to do that."

"I know. That's what makes me so nice." There went that grin. Mark groaned, and bit his lip. "You're too pathetic to go out like that!"

"You never complained before."

"Okay then, I just want to give you a make-over, is that so bad?"

"I don't know- look Collins, I appreciate everything you want to do for me, but I'm already late as it is. I don't want Michelle to think that I'm a flake... more than I seem anyway. I'll talk with you later!"

"Sure..." he had this discouraged look on his brow, but Mark hardly noticed it. He ran up the stairs, slipping on a creaky stair, and stepping on some gum. Can it get any better than this, wondered Mark, meeting the door and knocked. Michelle answered, smiling. He held the flowers in front of her, biting his bottom lip, hoping she would like them.

"Aww, Mark... they're marvelous. You didn't have to," said Michelle, smelling the tips of the petals. "Mmm... here, come in for a minute."

"Do you need a minute?" Mark quickly glanced at his watch. "I mean, you look gorgeous, and if we hurry-"

"That's what I need to talk about. Here...come in." Mark pressed his lips together, a bit worried. Gee, he hoped he wasn't going too fast with everything. They did just meet, but he thought he was handling it pretty well. Then again, he thought a lot of things and they didn't turn out the way he wanted. Here we go, another rejection, another thing to add to my list of failures, thought Mark.

"I have a ton of studying, as you can see." And he could see. Papers and textbooks were sprawled everywhere, and she had that tiredness in her voice. "And I have to pass this exam, or I'll never forgive myself. But I still plan to go with you tonight."

"No I understand," said Mark slowly. "Look, if you need tonight..."

"I wouldn't think of it! I've been looking forward to it," she said softly, bringing her face to his and kissing the side of his lip. Mark smiled, but then he felt something tickling his nostrils. He screwed up his face.

"Is something wrong?" Michelle looked panicked.

"No... are you wearing any perfume by chance?"

"I'm not. I hope you're not allergic to me." Mark shook his head, trying hard not to sneeze. At the corner of his eye, a ginger cat crawled from behind the sofa, eyeing them cautiously. A cat. He was allergic.

"You have a cat?"

"Yeah, I thought I told you. He just got back from the vet yesterday, poor little thing." She started to call the cat forth by clapping her hands together.

"No... um that is, I think I'm allergic." He sneezed. Great, fuck. He couldn't stay in her apartment. They wouldn't be able to hold a decent, or lucid conversation.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry. Look I need to study anyway. Pick me up at six?" She said, lightly shooing away the cat. It didn't obey.

"Yeah, I'll do that," he said and walked out the door. She winked at him, and a loving gleam was in her eyes. Mark's heart lifted, and he felt better all of a sudden. Okay, so they didn't go to the matinee show. That was all right. He felt a bit abandoned at first, but she gave him hope. He began walking back to his apartment, noting to himself that he needed to call the Johansen's about that appointment. He started to analyze his wardrobe. He wasn't the best dresser that was for sure. He always wore the same stuff. Two shirts, always because he thought it made him look bulgier. He looked like a stick, but the extra clothing gave him a sort of meaty look. His hair was disastrous- he couldn't do anything with it. He believed it had a life of its own. His sneakers... well, he didn't have anything else.

As soon as he entered his loft, he called the Johansen's. At least he was working again, but he was still wondering about his video camera. He should find it soon. It couldn't be missing for long. It would turn up... or who knows what he would do. Don't fret, he thought to himself as he got off the phone, don't worry... mustn't mess up your disposition because of an inanimate object...

"Mark, you're back early." Roger came out of the hallway. Mark turned and shrugged.

"She had other plans, but I'm taking her out tonight."

"Can we talk now?"

"Uhh... sure." He didn't really want to. He was afraid that Roger would say something he didn't want to hear. He had that sort of tone that something was the matter, and he didn't want anything to ruin his day.

"You and Maureen-" Roger started, but Mark didn't let him finish. That word did it.

"There is _nothing_ going on between me and Maureen," spat Mark, and stomped to his room. Sure he felt like he was thirteen, but he didn't want to hear that horrendous word, that dreadful name.

"I didn't say that," Roger tried to explain. "Look, can't we just talk about it?"

Mark slammed the door. Why was everyone assuming that there was something going on? Why wouldn't they just leave it alone? No one had ever asked about it until now, why is there such a big fuss all of a sudden? He's met someone else, and he was finally getting over it. He was finally getting a second chance. This time, he wanted to do it right.

His eyes drew to a shirt on his bed. He didn't remember leaving any clothes on his bed before he left. He wondered if Roger went through his closet... okay, even Roger wouldn't go through the rack of rejects in his closet. Who was in his bedroom? He picked up the shirt slowly, feeling the material as if for the first time. It was his flannel shirt. His flannel shirt that she said she would burn...

Mark threw open the door, and marched into the living room where Roger was looking out the window raptly. Mark cast the shirt at him, and it floated on top of his head. Roger turned around, the shirt hanging over his head goofily.

"Mark... is there something on my face?"

"You didn't tell me she was here... in this apartment, in my room!"

"Hey, I tried-" he pulled off the shirt, but Mark didn't let him finish.

"You could have tried harder! I don't want anything to remember her by, especially that stupid shirt."

"It's your shirt, man. And what is it between you two? I knew you guys had problems because... well because of that, but you two were always friends."

"We are not friends." Mark stated. There was no one else he wanted more to lose contact with. He was sick of her drama.

"You've been acting really... off lately. What's going on?" he asked seriously.

"I told you, nothing's going on."

"Not between you two... between you. You seem angrier."

"Who are you, my therapist?"

"A friend. We all see it. You've been acting like you're really angry with...with, you know. And you've never been angry with her. Upset, confused, yeah. Never this angry. What happened?"

Mark couldn't run away from it. He didn't tell Roger everything, but he told him all he could. He was too embarrassed to say what happened that night, but he did mention that there were several insensitive words, drunkenness, and an unexpected visitor. Roger was partly engaged when Joanne was brought in, but he didn't talk much. Mark actually felt a little better getting this off his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I don't know. I didn't want you to think... well, I mean I felt like shit, I just didn't want to talk about it. It was the worst night of my life."

"But is that worth throwing away a friendship?" asked Roger. Mark cocked an eyebrow at him as if giving him a what-do-you-think look. Roger just shook his head as if he was making a big mistake. "I still don't understand why you're making such a big deal about a few words."

"That's just it, Roger, you don't understand." Roger looked at him for a second, as if hurt, then glowered at him. Mark looked down, sort of shamefully, and Roger gazed at him peculiarly, then observed the shirt. He wrapped it into a ball, and tossed it back to him, and it landed on Mark's shoulder.

"And what's with the shirt? It's just a shirt." Roger shook his head again and turned his back at him. A familiar, rosy scent lifted from the piece of clothing, and Mark smelt its aroma. It was heavenly, almost a desirable scent of strawberries. He remembered only one person smelling that way, but he tried not to think about it. The material touched his skin. It was soft and for a split second, only a split second, all the memories of the past filled his mind. He tried to force back the sudden tears forming behind his eyes. He walked back into his bedroom, jammed the shirt under his bed, collapsed on his bed, and fell asleep.

He had been sleeping for a couple hours, and finally with some peace. It was hot, but it didn't matter much. He tried to not let it bother him. He actually felt kind of cool. A tingling sensation went up his right arm. It was a cool feeling, making him shiver a bit, but he continued to sleep. He didn't want to wake. Suddenly, the sensation shot up to the other arm, traveling throughout his body, down his legs, swerving back to his kidney, his bladder...

Mark awoke, a few giggles from above him. His right hand felt wet, and he wondered if he was sleeping in the bathtub or something. Oh God, he wasn't drunk again, was he?

He looked at his arm, which was hanging off the bed, almost touching the floor. But it wasn't touching the floor. His hand was dipped in a bowl of warm water.

"Did it work?" asked a girl's voice.

Collins face appeared in front of his eyes. "Did it work Mark?" Mark suddenly got the joke, and sat up, wiping his hand on the sheets.

"Very funny," he murmured as Roger, Mimi, and Collins laughed. It was the oldest trick in the book, and he couldn't believe they tried it on him. At least the sheets weren't wet... well he didn't feel wet...

"Sorry Mark, but you've always been our number one victim when it came to practical jokes," said Roger. He seemed to have gotten over their talk from earlier. Mark's nap had lightened his spirits too. A nice serenity showered him. At least he would be in a better mood before picking Michelle up for their date.

"Stand up Mark," said Collins. "We've got two and a half hours before you pick up your date, so we don't have much time."

"Two and a half hours isn't much time? It takes me two minutes," said Roger looking at Mimi. Mimi laughed.

"You obviously don't know much about women or fashion," she said giving Collins a low five. Collins nodded in agreement. Roger exchanged odd looks with Mark, and he smiled. He scratched his head.

"Let me guess. You have ten outfits for me to try on?" Mark asked Collins.

"Like I promised."

"You're as broke as I am," pointed out Mark.

"I didn't buy anything. These are old clothes from when I was a tall, lanky kid, and they all worked for me. But I figured it would work for a Caucasian, straight guy too," said Collins fixing a few of the clothes at the foot of the bed. Mark picked up a few things from his bed. They weren't the casual, colorful apparels Collins would be seen wearing at Life Cafe?. They were classy dress suits, but not really formal ones. One getup included a nice Journey shirt with spots of dark and light blue splattered all over the place. A greyish dress coat went with the shirt, and grey pants. Hmm... he couldn't picture Collins wearing that.

"Personally I wouldn't pair these items together but... seeing how you're trying to impress a woman, that called for some switching around. See I would add a bit of pink here, and here...and you didn't need to know that." Collins wiped the back of his head.

"Mimi and I will be waiting in the living room," said Roger. "We'll do a sort of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy thing...only this time there's only one queer, and I'm pretty sure he won't hit on you." Roger and Mimi left, leaving Collins and Mark alone.

"Finally. We need to talk," said Collins.

Oh great, and he thought the madness would end. "Collins, this isn't about her is it?"

"She has a name. Maureen." Mark felt his ears burning, and a tinge above his neck. Collins went on. "I think you two are being very immature about this, and I hate that you're making me the father of all this."

"Then don't. Just leave it," said Mark simply.

"I can't let you guys throw this all the way." His voice suddenly became a whisper, as if he was telling a secret. "I think she still likes you."

"You're crazy, Collins."

"Mark, I swear, this isn't the marijuana talking. My friend and I had parted a while ago. But you can't let her part from you."

Mark looked at him annoyed. Just drop it, just drop it, he wanted to yell. Instead he said, "Collins. Please?" He didn't want to yell, Collins was too good of a friend for that. He knew he meant well, he knew everyone did, but the friendship has already gone to the rocks. Why did they have to hold on? Why hold on?

"All right. Sorry Mark," he apologized, but it felt like it was more than just for bringing up the topic again. It was like he was sorry for something else to. Mark pushed the thought away. He focused on the make-over, hoping that it would help him get over it.

"I never thought I'd say this to you Mark," said Collins, grinning, "but... would you please take off your pants?"

Mark blushed suddenly, and hesitated. He never thought in a hundred years, that he would be taking his pants off in front of a homosexual… okay there was that one Poker night.. argh... the sad sort of thing was that it wasn't for pleasure... or was that the good thing? He slowly unbuttoned his pants, feeling regretful at every centimeter he pulled it down.

"Come on Marky, don't tease me, now off with the pants!" hurried Collins.

Mark took off his pants hastily and stood there, staring at Collins. What now? Collins tilted his head up and down.

"Don't just stand there clueless. You gotta finish the look. Take off your shirt."

WHAT? "Then I'll be naked!"

"No, you've got Snoopy boxers on. Nice touch, by the way." Collins winked at him. "It's not like I haven't seen you in your underwear before!"

"This is different." Mark covered his face, humiliated. Did he really have to? He pulled the shirt over his head, and straightened out his glasses. He could feel his face turning red. Okay, never in a hundred years would he have imagined himself standing in his bedroom, with nothing but his boxers covering his albino white body, while a gay man observed him two feet away.

Mark uttered a pain of discomfort. Collins merely laughed at this and threw him some pants.

"Let's try the James Bond look. I've always wanted to see you in a proper suit." Collins dressed him in the popular black and white suit, with even a silly tail tagging behind his dress jacket. Collins scooped up a glob of who-knows-what, and handed it to Mark. Ew.

"What's this?" asked Mark.

"Grease. Go ahead, slick it through your hair."

"Uh.." now how did the movie stars do this? Mark tried to figure out whether he was suppose to start from the back, the front, the sides, or just slap it in the middle of his scalp. He didn't even realize that he was staring into his hand until Collins spoke up.

"It's not going to bite you, just lay it on there. Mark, I can't be your hairdresser too." He swiped what he could from Mark's hand and plopped it on his head. Collins slicked his hair back, and it felt as if Mark was being shampooed by his mother. He pouted, feeling like a total air head about this whole fashion deal.

"There... here." He handed Mark a towel, and he wiped his hands with it. "Alright, let me take a look at you." He turned him around, and bit his lip from laughing.

"What?" Mark asked timidly. What did he look like? Too bad he didn't have a full-length mirror. On the other hand, he couldn't live with one, for he could have smashed it a thousand times, dreading the way he looked. And then he learned to stop caring.

"Let's bring you out," said Collins grabbing his shoulders and pushing him out the door. "Are you sitting? Here we come!"

"No wait, Collins, what..." but Mark couldn't stop him. He dragged his feet, forestalling the moment, but Collins was much too strong. He tried to hang on to a wall, but he was pushed and nagged into it. He entered the living room, as Mimi and Roger looked up eagerly. Luckily, they didn't burst into laughter.

"Mark... whoa..." Roger was the first to say something. "You look... God-awful. Almost... frightening."

"Collins what did you DO to him?" asked Mimi. "You were suppose to sexify him!"

"You can't jump that big, you have to start out small. I was just... experimenting. We'll get there eventually... I mean it can't get any worse, right?"

"Yeah, that's true," agreed Roger and Mimi. Mark puffed fecklessly. He wasn't a Ken doll to slap on some clothes, and call it a spectacle. Hell, Ken had a better body than him.

"He looks like a really bad body guard for the president. The type that would duck under the table instead of taking a bullet for the Man."

"He looks more like a geek trying to do a really bad impression of Antonio Banderas," interjected Mimi.

"Are you guys aware than I'm still in the room, and that I'm not a test dummy? I can hear you," pointed out Mark.

"We know," said Roger and sat back down next to Mimi.

"Back inside." Collins ushered Mark back in the bedroom. They ripped off the clothing, and Mark again was in his underwear. He quickly snuck to the bathroom while Collins was setting up his next outfit to check out his hair. Mark gawped at himself. His hair was oily and gross looking, and it looked as if he was an extra in Grease. He ran some water through his hair, and messed it up quickly, so that the grease would come off. He ran back into the bedroom before Collins could yell at him.

They tried on a few more outfits and made Mark model it for Mimi and Roger. There were massive amounts of laughter, even tears at one outfit that made him look like a peacock. Some of the pants Collins gave him were really uncomfortable. One was a bit too tight and was riding on him, and he walked as if he had a hitch. Roger didn't get enough of that one, but Mimi did compliment his legs. One good thing did come out of it, and Mark almost laughed himself to death because of it. They loved the hair. It was unruly, yet it had a dimensional, rocker look. They all liked it, and Mark was almost proud that he did something right... even though it was on accident.

"Okay, last one because I'm running out of outfits and patience," said Collins. "You are definitely the toughest person I ever had to work. Then again... you're the only person I ever had to work with. Let's face it Mark, you're a fashion disaster... and then there's Roger. But he pulls it off for some reason. Even I could never work it out. Hmm... But, I think I got you worked out."

"So, what's the diagnosis, doc?" asked Mark, almost excitedly. Well, he was excited that it was going to end. And he hoped that this would be the one Michelle will be seeing.

"Put this on," he handed him some very dark blue jeans, that looked like it would fit nicely around him. They weren't at all baggy when he put them on, they were actually a perfect size. Collins then passed him a collared, long sleeved white shirt, which looked like it was a bit too long for him.

"Don't tuck it in," advised Collins, "five outfits ago, I learned that you are NOT a neat, tuck-it-in sort of guy. You'll look like a nerd."

Mark did as he was told, and just buttoned it up. He then waited for Collins to hand him the next item. A belt, and a jacket. He wrapped the belt around him, and then put on the jacket. It was a black blazer, warm and Collins folded the wrist cuffs on the white shirt so it would be peeking out beneath the black. The shirt was longer than the blazer, but Collins said that was okay, and Mark trusted his word for it. They kept the shoes, and the glasses, only because he was blind without them. Collins then took out some compacts which looked like powder...

"What's that?" asked Mark.

"A little makeup," he answered, sweeping the brush on his hand.

"NO, no, no!" Mark backed away toward the door.

"It's not real makeup... well..."

"No, no, no, no, NO!" said Mark and closed the door on him. He sort of chuckled afterwards, but he drew the line when someone tried to put makeup on him. He heard Roger say, 'sounds like Collins tried the makeup,' and he rushed out to the living room. He paused in the middle of the room. Mimi smiled widely.

"Better. MUCH better!" She leaped up and threw herself at him. She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, pulling him down. Mark was strangled a bit in her hug of death, but he was happy that his transformation was a success.

"Thanks Mimi..." he managed to say, but Mimi was so avid about the whole thing, she couldn't help but squeal, "Muy guapo! Sexy Mark!" She twirled his shirt collar, and looked at him dreamily. "En tu casa o en la mia?"

"Uhh... sure!" said Mark clueless. He turned a crimson color.

"Hey, don't say anything kinky to him, you're my girl, and he's my best friend... now if you can detach yourself..." said Roger tapping her shoulder, and looking at her sternly. He was kidding of course, but she flashed Mark a wink, and ran her hand down Roger's shirt. He shook his head and smiled at her, then turned his attention to Mark. He stood there modestly, awaiting for his friend's response.

"Not bad... not bad at all," said Roger patting his friend's back. "Collins, you do great work! How do you do it?"

"Secret," said Collins coming out from the bedroom.

"No I have to hand it to you, he looks really good," he said checking out his blazer.

"Yeah. Collins, you're Superman, aren't you?" asked Mimi.

"Part time. Because of the AIDS thing, I can't do it on-call... but I am..." He spread his legs apart and put his hands on his hips. "Superman with AIDS!"

"Not sure about the shoes, however..." said Roger looking down at his sneakers.

"Oh..." said Mimi following his eyes down to the floor. "Yeah, those...those..." She suddenly ran down the hallway and slammed the bathroom door shut. Mark looked up at Roger questioningly.

"My shoes aren't that bad...sure I stepped on some gum along the way, and..."

"I wonder what's wrong..." mumbled Roger, and he ran after her. Mark looked at Collins worriedly. Collins gave him a reassuring smile, as if saying not to worry about it. Mark nodded slowly. He hoped everything was alright.

-----------------

Later that night, Mark was able to be prompt for once, and picked up Michelle at exactly six for their dinner date. Michelle goggled for a moment before saying hello, and that made Mark feel a bit bashful, but he felt sort of good about it. She couldn't help but talk about how great he looked, and he did the same. She did look stunning. She was wearing a green sleeveless dress that enlaced around her waist snugly. Her hair was brought up in a tight style, with strands stringing around her face. Mark was almost proud showing her off at Heaven's Bistro.

The date went along nicely. Mark enjoyed her lectures; he didn't mind listening to whatever she had to say. He sort of was used to it. Listening was one of his strongest traits. She enjoyed his company as well, or so he hoped, for she laughed every time he did something goofy. He was clumsy all night, dropping silverware, almost tipping over drinks. She found it a sidesplitter though, and even said he looked awfully cute being clumsy.

"So who helped you with all this...this?" she pointed at his clothing.

"Collins. We spent a lifetime in that bedroom... I mean, changing clothes."

"Collins? Really..." she took a bite of her food. "I... I would have never known. I mean, I guess he has an easier time dressing you then himself, huh?"

Mark looked at her surprised. "Well Collins always had great style. I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"So true." He looked at her kind of indecisively. Well, it was just her opinion, and he should respect that. Not everyone's going to like Collins' style. But for a while, it had him thinking about how she felt about Collins. It was hard not to love him. He was Superman.

The rest of the date, however, was blissful. They had a wonderful meal, the service was great. Nothing could have made it any better. The only thing that worried him was when he took out his cash to pay for the meal. He was afraid that he was going to b short handed, and he didn't dare ask Michelle for some money. Luckily, he was just on the dot, and he was able to pay, but he couldn't help but brood about it.

The night drifted upon them as they walked down the sidewalks of the avenues. The moonlight glistened in the sky, and a breeze of cold air swift past them. Michelle continued to chatter away with Mark putting his two cents in now and then. Fortunately, he was able to think of witty responses to a lot of her statements, and she laughed nearly every time. She really made him feel better, like he wasn't invisible, like he was human.

A sudden tingling made him shiver. He didn't know what it was. He hoped it wasn't his past beginning to haunt him again. Perhaps it was his conscience telling him something... but he didn't do anything wrong. Unless that thing from this morning was coming back to torment him again. He shivered again.

"Are you cold?" Michelle asked. She noticed.

"No, no. Are you okay?"

"Fine." She had brought a sweater with her and had it around her tightly. A soft shuffling came from behind. Mark looked to the shadows down the alleyways they were passing. He didn't feel frightened or anything. It just felt sort of... strange. Again he heard the shuffling. He laid a hand behind Michelle, looking back for anyone who might have been following him. No one. Well... it always start off that way.

No, there was someone. A figure, a man. He leered at them carefully, tracing their footsteps logically, silently. Now Mark became a little frightened. The man stepped faster. Mark paced faster. He leaned near Michelle's ear.

"Walk a bit faster," he whispered.

"Why-?" but right after she was pulled away.

"Michelle!" he looked back, and saw the figure's arm was wrapped around her neck, the other around her waist. Near her neck, he held a knife.

"Don't hurt her." Mark was lead into a grim alley. His heart raced. Just don't hurt her, he thought desperately. He didn't know what to do. But he would oblige to anything as long as she was okay. He had never been mugged before. He'd heard stories from Collins and Roger though.

"I won't if you give me what you got," the man growled.

"All right..." He reached into his pocket.

"Hands up!" he growled. Mark did as so. He was thinking he had a gun. Mark didn't have a gun, that was for sure.

"Just getting my wallet..." he whispered. The man nodded, and gestured him to hurry. Mark reached into his pocket. Empty. Fuck... left it at the restaurant, he thought pitiably.

"Look... I don't have any cash on me..."

"That's the wrong answer," he said and tightened his grasp around her neck. She gasped, and Mark tried to think of a way out. He didn't have anything.

"I have nothing. You can even check." The man slowly loosened his grip, but kept one hand on her arm. He carefully checked Mark's jean pockets which were empty. He then checked the inside pockets within the blazer. He reached out into one pocket... and took out a fifty dollar bill. SHIT. Where did that come from?

"Fuckin' liar," he grumbled and swept his hand across his cheek. The knife sliced through his cheek, and diced across. Mark tried not to curse. Blood spilt, and a stinging pain came about. He turned his face around, and the mugger pushed Michelle before running off.

"Are you alright?" Mark said breathlessly, bringing his hands to his knees.

"Mark! I'm alright," she whispered, and hugged him. "I was so frightened, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, and wrapped his arms around her.

"I was so scared," she said. "Nothing like that has ever happened before, not to me. I hate to admit it, but I've always been protected...thank you Mark."

Mark didn't say anything. He did realize a while ago that Michelle wasn't like anyone he'd kept in close contact with. She had always been locked up in her home, confined from the world of horrors, the world of reality. It was hard for her to get used to. Her parents always cared for her, always made her feel safe. Mark embraced her longingly, and rubbed her hair softly. It was now down, in tangles. He kept her warm by bringing his long arms around her body even tighter together. For the first time he felt strong. Like he was actually capable of taking care of someone, and it felt nice that someone depended on him like that. He wanted to hold her forever. He wanted their days to last.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N thank you all for great reviews! Wacky D, don't you worry about it, this chapter is all about Maureen. This diva needs her stage, remember?... Enjoy! Review!**

**Chapter Twelve**

It was a beautiful day in the middle of the spring when Maureen and Mimi finally had the chance to spend a day together. They've been planning to do it for ages, but there were always millions of other things to do. Mimi slept most of her mornings after long and exhausting nights at work. They seemed longer and more exhausting these days than they used to be, probably as a result of her illness, and she needed more sleep. And when she did get herself several days off, Collins had moved in with Maureen and she was busy helping him unpack and settle in. Two more weeks had passed before they were able to go out as planned.

At first they thought of shopping and a movie in the nearby mall, but quickly realized they couldn't quite afford the mall, so instead they got on the subway and did the next best thing they could think of.

They went to NYC.

The streets were crowded with cars, the pavements were even more crowded with people, which seemed to be almost impossible. Everyone seemed to be going in opposite directions. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Different kinds of music were playing loudly from various shops everywhere. Everything was huge and enormous in NYC. That's what was so great about it. It was magical. And at night, with all the Broadway billboards, advertisments and electricity, the magic just grew impossibly stronger.

Maureen glanced at her petite Latina friend, who looked fascinated by the passersby, the enormous buildings that sorrounded them. She smiled. Mimi was such a sweet girl. Most of the time Maureen felt that constant uncontrollable urge to protect her from the horrors of life. Weird as it was, Mimi's innocence was still mostly preseved; she was still somewhat naןve, even after everything she'd already been through. Maureen knew exactly when she started behaving as an older sister to Mimi. It was ever since that long ago Christmas Eve when she and Joanne found the girl's nearly lifeless body in the park. They nearly lost her that night in the loft, but then, miraculously, she came back to them, all of them- not just Roger. And from that day on, by an unspoken agreement, Mimi was their angel. She was the closest thing to Angel Maureen could ever think about. Looking at Mimi now, Maureen couldn't believe that the sick girl she found that night in the park was the same energetic girl who was now bouncing up and down cheerfully with sheer excitment. It made her smile widen.

Mimi did three spins as she took in the sight of the buildings above their heads, then giggled. "Why couldn't we live in New York City?"

Maureen laughed softly. She was older, she had to be the one who smashed the illusion. She hated being the one who did that."Because we can't afford it, Meems, that's why."

Mimi's giggling stopped at once. "Oh, right. But it's nice to dreeeaaam!" she singsonged, flashing a beautiful smile at Maureen. Then she became serious. "And it surely is better from where I used to live, anyway."

"Where did you live?" asked Maureen. They've known each other for quite some time now but never really talked about these kind of things. Suddenly, she was very curious to hear Mimi's life story.

"In the worst places possible. I wasn't raised the way others were raised… the only memorable thing I've got from my so called childhood is my father. When I turned 16 I left home. I never got along with my mother after my dad left, so I ran. I lived on the streets until the owner of the Cat Scratch decided to give me a job and a shelter. I've been working there ever since."

Maureen looked at her, horrified. "16! Geez, Meems! I was about your age now when I left home, but you… you're so young! You shouldn't do all this! There is so much more in life than this, you know? You deserve so much more… you should finish school, go to college, BE someone, unlike the rest of us…"

Mimi smiled, then shook her head. "It's too late for all that now. But yes, I've always wanted to finish school, at least, but now I don't know. It's really hard to pay for these things nowadays. You finished school, didn't you?"

Maureen nodded, and smiled bitterly. "Are you kidding? My parents would have died of a heart attack if I didn't. Believe it or not, I even tried out college for some time. That's where I met Collins." Her smile widened as she remembered her best friend. "You should be more like Collins than any of us."

Mimi laughed. "Everyone should be more like Collins… or Angel… hey, look!"

Maureen followed her gaze to the pavement across the street, where three people were drumming on metal trash cans. There was a big crowd surrounding them. They sounded good.

"I miss her sometimes," said Maureen softly, "don't you?"

"I think about her all the time… especially when I hear a beat like that," she pointed at the drummers across the street. Their rhythm was hypnotozing. "There should be a major in banging on trashcans... and dancing, although it wouldn't be the type of dancing I do," she smiled, then looked at Maureen. "Did you try out majoring in music in college?"

Thinking about her parents' reaction to Mimi's question, Maureen laughed softly. "No… even though I wanted to. I've always loved music, and the spot light, but I had endless fights about it with my parents. 'Music or showbusiness is not the kind of profession a Johnson should aspire to have, Maureen,' that's what they kept telling me, so I took english literature as my major to satisfy them, and some drama courses, just for fun. But I still thrive on fame and the spotlight, as pathetic as it may sound."

"We all know THAT, chica," laughed Mimi, "But I don't think you're able to fight it, you were born to be in the spotlight, that's your style!" She noticed something just several feet away, and stopped. Maureen looked at her curiously as a new smile crawled across her face. "Speaking of style…" She said and pointed at a costume shop nearby, "It looks like someone collected everything from the reject pile and tossed it in this store. Let's go check it out!"

As was expected from a drama queen, Maureen loved dressing up. There was no wonder her favorite holiday was Halloween, ever since she was a small child. She loved these kind of shops. She grabbed Mimi's arm and the two entered the shop.

It was huge, as any other shop on the street, and it had an enormous selection of costumes and props, hats and wigs and whatnot. It was the perfect shop for Halloween, though it was many months away. Yet, at this time of the year, it was practically deserted, so Maureen and Mimi went to its far end and started looking through a huge crate full of funny hats.

Maureen put on a witch's black, pointy hat and turned to face Mimi. "How do I look?"

Mimi burst out laughing. "Ay, mamasita, this hat is so you! We should find you a broom, what a perfect match that would be!" she rummaged through the props and pulled a blonde curly wig over her own curly head. "Hey, looks like something Angel would wear…" she posed in front of the full length mirror. "Akita… Evita!"

Maureen laughed hysterically. "Oh my God! You look so ridiculous! Wait wait, I want one too!" she dropped the witch's hat to the floor and pulled a red wig over her head. She joined Mimi, who was still posing in front of the mirror. "Now we're like Thelma and Louise!" They both giggled, like they were eight-year-olds.

Mimi took off her wig, still smiling. "If only Roger saw me…" That brought some more giggles.

"Hilarious!" laughed Maureen, and then, without even realizing she was saying it instead of thinking about it, "I wish we had a came-" she stopped abruptly, suddenly very much aware of what she was doing. Her laughter stopped at once. She turned away from Mimi and started going through some dresses on a sideway hanger.

Apparantly, Mimi missed that remark. "What was that, honey?"

"Oh, nothing!" she snatched one dress from its rack, and held it against her body in front of the mirror. "Hey, how's this one? I'd say pink goes pretty good with green!" she said cheerfully in an attempt to change the subject. One glance at Mimi, and Maureen knew that her attempt failed. Mimi was looking at her suspiciously. Then she moved closer to Maureen and gently took the dress from her.

"I can never see you wearing pink and green onstage... or at home," she said slowly as she put the dress back on the rack. "Are you sure nothing is bothering you?"

"Oh please, Meems, what can possibly bother ME?" asked Maureen, as cheerfully as she could. She avoided Mimi's eyes.

Mimi shrugged but said nothing, as if she didn't want to push the issue any further. Instead, she took a cowboy hat from a nearby shelf, put on a matching vest and snatched a toy guitar.

"Hey Maureen, check it out! I'm Roger! 'you can see it in my eyes…' You know, I'm beginning to think that it's the only line he remembers from that song…" she giggled and looked at Maureen. She wasn't laughing. She didn't even look amused. She looked distant and distracted, many miles away from there, lost in some kind of a dream. All she saw in front of her was the photo of their day in the City… April's smile, Roger with the cowboy's hat… Mark behind the camera… She was startled when Mimi gently tapped on her shoulder.

"Something is wrong," it wasn't really a question. Mimi took off the costume and made Maureen look at her. "Are you okay?" she asked gently. Maureen didn't answer. "Mi hermana, digame su problema, you can tell me anything."

Maureen sighed. "I know, sweetie, it's just… you put that stupid hat on and I… it reminded me of…" her voice trailed off. She wasn't sure she wanted to upset Mimi with ancient history about Roger's ex.

"Reminded you of whom? Tell me!" insisted Mimi.

Maureen's voice was not higher than a whisper when she answered softly, "April."

She was surprised to see Mimi smiling, as if she remembered something herself.

"His dead girlfriend?" Maureen slowly nodded. "Did she use to dress as a cowboy?"

Maureen shook her head, smiling slightly. "No… you see, we had this photo... with a cowboy here in the City... it was right before she..."

"…died?" asked Mimi softly. Maureen looked away. It was difficult to relate April with death. Even after all that time. "Were you all very close?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that. We were glue. We all lived together, which made us even closer. I guess it all started to fall apart right after Benny married Muffy, and April... well, you know..." her gaze wandered from Mimi to the entrance of the shop. A familiar sight caught her eye. She gasped and pulled Mimi down to the floor. "Oh shit, get down!" she whispered urgently.

"What? What?" asked Mimi, obviously startled, and tried to look up without being seen. Soon she could see what made Maureen drag her to the floor. Right beside the cashier stood Joanne, and right next to her, an unfamiliar woman, as elegantly dressed as Joanne. They both looked somewhat out of place in that costume shop. Mimi took a closer look at the strange woman, then snorted. "Ay, que puta," she muttered. Maureen's Spanish was a bit rusty, yet she knew exactly what Mimi meant. She snorted her agreement. "What is SHE doing in a place like this?"

"What is she doing here is not the question, Meems," whispered Maureen. "The question is, how can we leave unnoticed…"

It took couple of seconds before Mimi jumped into action. She grabbed a purple wig and held it to Maureen. "Here, put this on," she ordered as she pulled the blonde wig back over her own head. "Find sunglasses… and scarves… make yourself unnoticable…" she tied a Japanese kimono around her narrow waist. "And whatever you do… don't look at them!"

Maureen stared at her in amazement as she slowly stood up. She looked ludricrous with that kimono, the blonde wig and a flower-like scarf. "Unnoticable? Are you fucking insane!" she hissed, yet did as she was told. She grabbed huge sunglasses that looked like a reminder of the 80's, and put the purple wig on. That should do it, she thought. Her clothes looked different anyway, thanks to Collins, so Joanne wouldn't even think it was her.

"Now what, genius? We can't just leave!"

"Sure we can," replied Mimi matter-of-factly and walked towards the entrance. They both stopped dead on their tracks when they heard the cashier calling after them-

"Ladies! Ladies, you can't just leave with those, you have to pay for them! Come here and I'll ring you up!"

"Hmmm… maybe we can't…" said Mimi with a small smile. She grabbed Maureen's arm and started walking slowly towards the cashier. "That's okay, they'll probably think we're tourists…" her voice sounded weird, as if she was trying not to giggle. Maureen tried to remain calm and serious as she followed Mimi. She felt as if she was about to burst out giggling herself. They got really close to Joanne by now, but it was clear that she didn't recognize them. Maureen glanced at her through her huge sunglasses, then took a closer look at who she believed was Daisy what's-her-name from Legal B. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't at all pretty, she wasn't even attractive. She was just… well, normal. Just a random woman from court. There was nothing special about her.

She grabbed Mimi and led her to the far end of the shop again. "Did you see that?" she whispered, "She dumped me for… THAT?" She wasn't insanely jealouse, which she thought was weird, considering the many tears she had shed over Joanne two weeks ago. She wasn't sure what was that she felt, but she definately wasn't upset. She had no doubts about that.

Mimi lowered her sunglasses to take a better look at the woman next to Joanne.

"Well, it's her loss, Maureen, not yours," she said softly.

Maureen didn't have a chance to answer. The cashier was leading Joanne and Daisy in their direction. "Shit, she's bringing them over here! Quick, talk Spanish! Say something! Anything!"

"Ay, mire ese sombrero…" stammered Mimi, who was trying to think of something to say as quickly as possible.

"Ay, que lindo," answered Maureen. Mimi raised an amused eyebrow. Maureen smiled apologetically. "I suck at Spanish…" she added in a whisper.

"Here you go, ladies, you'll find some more dresses and props here, and I'll go find you that cat suit right now, honey," said the cashier and disappeared again behind the hangers. Maureen and Mimi exchanged a panicked look. Joanne and Daisy stood right next to them and started rummaging through a wooden crate.

"My ex had a cat suit at home, we should have called HER," said Joanne suddenly. Maureen tensed. She detected the mockery in Joanne's voice. She grabbed an umbrella until her knockles whitened. She had to say something. How dare she use that tone while talking about ME?

"Cuanto para el sombrero?" asked Mimi before she had a chance to say anything. She shot Maureen a warning glare. Maureen nearly kicked herself. Joanne could have known them if she said anything… but then she realized that letting Mimi speak wasn't such a smart idea either. Joanne turned abruptly.

"What's the matter, Honeybear?" asked Daisy.

Maureen's eyes narrowed. HONEYBEAR? She grabbed Mimi's arm but said nothing.

"Oh, nothing, I just… that voice sounded so familiar all of a sudden," she looked around her for a moment without paying much attention to Maureen and Mimi. It was more as if she was looking through them. "Anyway, if she couldn't find you a cat suit I'll call to my ex and ask her to borrow hers for that party."

"Over my dead body you can…" muttered Maureen under her breath. She got more furious by the second. How DARE she!

Mimi pinched her arm and shot her a glare again. Then she turned to face Joanne, her hands on her hips. "Que? Usted tiene algo que decir? You... you has something you gots to say to me? Ha, chica?" she asked and winked at Maureen, who smiled weakly. Thank God for friends like Mimi, she thought.

Joanne turned her look from Mimi to Daisy, her expression confused and somewhat embarrassed. "Do I know you?"

Maureen watched the scene, amused. She said nothing. She let Mimi do the work. She seemed to enjoy it anyway.

"No no no! I not know you, I not know you anywhere... my name is... Ferrah Dalores, THE Ferrah, do you not know who I am, hmm? You better... how you say, recognize!"

Joanne stared at her, as if she tried to remember who she was. Her forehead wrinkled. "No, I'm sorry, I don't…"

"I think it's a, too late for Halloween, ay, but your girlfriend needs be cat, ha?" said Mimi, shaking her head this way and that. She dropped a colorful fan in the process and bent to pick it up. As she did, Joanne moved closer and pulled the wig off her head.

"Ay! mi pelo!" It took Mimi by surprise but she was quick to react at she put her hands oh her now revealed hair. She glanced at Joanne, who didn't look so amused.

"Miss Mimi Marquez," she said sternly, as if Mimi was her rebellious daughter. "I should have known."

"What gave it away?" asked Mimi with a small smile as she dropped the kimono to the floor. There was no point in wearing it, now that Joanne knew who she was.

"Your ass, mimi, I would have recognized it anywhere, with or without that silly costume…" said Joanne dryly.

Maureen watched it all but said nothing, though she was tempted to step closer and pull Joanne's hair out of its place. Mimi's ass! Did she use to look at it when they were still together!

It was then when Joanne glanced at her direction. She still didn't seem to recognize her though. "Who's your friend?" she asked Mimi.

Mimi looked puzzled, but only for a split second. "A girlfriend... not your kind of course... Sierra... Juanita... Juanita Sierra... I'm showing her around town. She's from… umm... Puerto Rico!"

Joanne gave her a look as if she was stupid, then raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yeah, okay…"

Luckily, the cashier suddenly appeared. "Ladies, I think I found what you were looking for, will you follow me please?"

Maureen sighed with great relief as Joanne and Daisy followed the cashier. To her horror, Mimi just pulled her right after them.

"Meems, what the hell are you doing?" she hissed.

Mimi ignored her. She looked as if she had other things on her mind, finally she turned to face Maureen. "How are we going to pay for all these?" she asked, gesturing Maureen's wig, glasses and scarf.

"We're not... we're going to leave them here somehow and run before they'll notice us..." she took another glance at Daisy before she snorted. "She wouldn't fit into my goddamn catsuit even if she wanted to…" The bumping came out of nowhere, followed by a terrified shriek from Mimi's direction. "Oh shit!" Maureen found herself sitting on the floor.

Her sunglasses slipped somewhere along the way, so was her wig. She looked up to face a very angry but not very surprised Joanne, who was hovering above her.

She shot Maureen an icy glare, then shot the same glare at Mimi. "Is it really necessary for you to make a scene everywhere you go?" she used the same stern tone she used earlier to berate Mimi. And Maureen didn't like it much. Her eyebrows knotted together as she collected the pieces of her shattered ego from the floor, along with her sore body. "You are so childish."

Maureen couldn't stop herself. She just couldn't. The smile nearly cracked her face as she said sweetly, "Am not!"

It didn't work. Joanne remained as stiff as an iceberg. "Who do you think you are, following me around? It's over, Maureen, why can't you understand that?"

Ah, two can play the question game, thought Maureen. "Who do you think YOU are? Following you around! Oh, give me a break! I know it's over! I thank God every day and every night that it is!"

Joanne didn't look so convinced. "Is that the reason you're here beside me pretending to be Juanita Sierra?" she asked, shooting another glare at Mimi, who seemed as if she was making great efforts not to giggle.

"That was NOT my idea!" said Maureen defensively. Her gaze wandered from Joanne to Daisy, who was curiously observing her. "Who's YOUR friend, if we're into introductions? Cause I don't believe she can fit into that cat suit I have…" she said, smiling evilly at Daisy.

Joanne looked even more angry now, Maureen noticed with sheer satisfaction. She hesitated, then looked straight at Maureen as she said proudly, "Although it is NONE of your business, this is Daisy Kendel, my new POOKIE bear." Maureen rolled her eyes. Like I care, she told herself. "Now if you don't mind, I never want to see you again... so stop stalking me or I'll take you to court."

Maureen laughed. "Take me to court? Honey, don't over estimate yourself here, huh? I don't wanna see you ever again in my life. And you," she added, glancing at Daisy. She looked horrified. Should I warn her? "Just... oh, why do I bother..." she pulled Mimi towards the exit. "Let's go, Mimi."

The sun was still shining brightly outside as Maureen and Mimi made their way to a nearby coffee house. Maureen felt like dancing. She couldn't stop smiling. Guess I needed to see that for myself, she thought as she followed Mimi inside the cafי. They sat across from one another. Mimi still looked somewhat confused by her behavior. She kept glancing at her worriedly from above the menu, even after the waiter left with their orders.

"What?" asked Maureen cheerfully.

"Ummm… nothing! It's just… you're okay with all this? What just happened there? I mean, I thought you'd be pretty upset…"

Maureen thought about it for a moment. Was she upset? She didn't feel upset. Perhaps she should? After all, Joanne did dump her for that woman. She flashed a reassuring smile at Mimi and said, "You know what, I thought I'd be upset too! But I'm really, completely and absolutely okay with that! I don't understand what I found in her in the first place... ough... it's like... ough, like YOU were with Benny, I mean, what the hell were you thinking!"

She noticed Mimi wince at the mention of Benny. She wasn't sure what it meant so she just kept on talking. "Roger I can understand, I had a small crush on him myself before I realized what a jerk he was, but the yuppie scum?…" The waiter arrived with their orders, and disappeared quickly. She looked at Mimi, still waiting for her answer.

Mimi took her time thinking about it, but she finally said, "I guess… at the time, I thought I'd find someone that was caring and would take care of me…" then her tone changed completely as she smiled slightly, "And Roger is not a jerk! You know that!"

"Okay, not really a jerk, but... ah well, you know what I meant. It's just... you are right for each other. But this Benny thing... I think back of it and I still can't figure it out, ya know? You seem so... I don't know, different... weird combination..."

"You know Benny... he was the sophisticated kind... and yeah, I guess I can understand that. But I kind of wanted someone like that. To pull me away from what I was doing. I didn't know he would be a double-crossing, sex-craving maniac," she smirked and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. Then she remembered something and raised her head. "We weren't the only ones that were different. You and Mark... I would have never figured."

Maureen stopped stirring her coffee and looked up abruptly at the mentioning of Mark's name. Is there absolutely no way to avoid him? "Why is that?" she asked softly.

Mimi smiled. "Well because he's… he's... well Mark! And you're... you're, um... Maureen…" she sighed helplessly, as if she couldn't translate her thoughts into words. "I should have finished school…"

Maureen smirked. "Yeah, it wasn't really convincing…" She looked at Mimi seriously. "Mimi, there's more in this story than you can possibly imagine. The thing about Mark and me is... well..." her voice trailed off. How could she even start explaining all that to Mimi? How could she even describe their relationship? Where should she start? She sipped her coffee.

"Was there a lot of magic?" asked Mimi, ever the romantic. "Like how me and Roger are? I mean there must have been something like that," she added quietly.

Maureen couldn't help but smile. Mimi sounded so young all of a sudden, so unexperienced, even though Maureen knew it wasn't the case. Life taught her some tough lessons. She nodded. "Yeah, there was... it was... amazing... Mark is an amazing person, once you remove all these impossible dorkish layers. But then... someday... the magic wears off…" she said carefully. She didn't want to be the one who shuttered Mimi's romantic conception, not again.

Mimi looked at her, confused. "Wears off? That can't be true love then, can it? I thought true love was eternal... like a flame."

Maureen laughed bitterly. "You are hopelessly romantic, Meems, did anyone ever tell you that?" Mimi shrugged. "I believed it too when I was with Mark, but there's no such thing as eternity. We learned it the hard way when April killed herself. She was our flame, and she was gone."

Mimi looked at her, confused. "April? What she got to do with your love for each other?"

"She's not, I mean... not directly. I don't know. Everything just... kind of fell apart after she died. And we came to realize that nothing lasted forever, not even true love," she said quietly.

Mimi nodded her agreement. "Yeah, but you shouldn't depend your love on someone else..." she stopped suddenly and glanced over her shoulder. "Who said that? For a minute I sounded educated," she smiled, and then glanced carefully at Maureen. "I've been wondering... how did you go from Mark to Joanne? I hope that's not too bold," she added quickly.

Maureen smiled. Usually she would smack anyone who would dare asking her that, but since it was Mimi, she didn't care answering her. Maybe that would be her chance to answer herself as well. "I don't know. Joanne seemed like the right person for me at the time, it didn't even matter that she wasn't a man, as weird as it may sound. But then again when she dumped me, I suddenly realized that she was so much like Mark in a way... maybe I'm doomed to be attracted to these Mark Cohen types, I don't know..."

Mimi smiled fondly. "Mark's a sweet guy. I get worried about him sometimes. That guy needs to get laid!"

Maureen laughed softly at Mimi's sharp observation. "I guess you're right," she sipped her coffee. "I was his first, ya know? I'm kinda proud of that, in a perverse kind of way…"

"Awww, poor Marky!" cooed Mimi.

Maureen looked at her, pretended to be offended. "What do you mean 'poor Marky'?"

"Poor Marky as in at least he's not a virgin at 40, although I have to admit I thought that's what he would be at first…"

"I hope he has some more experience by now... for his sake of course... I wonder about him and that girl..." she said casually though her heart was racing. Would Mimi get it? She surely wasn't as stupid as Roger. Would she tell her what she wanted to know?

"Michelle? That chica can sing! She's nice... you don't think?"

The question caught Maureen somewhat off guarded. What did she think? "Ummm… yeah, I guess she is…" she stammered. "Is it serious?" she asked, glancing carefully at Mimi.

"What, Mark and her?" asked Mimi. Maureen slowly nodded. "Well... they've been going out almost every night for a while. He seems really happy." She raised her head to face Maureen, whose expression was unreadable. Mimi interpreted it wrong, apparantly, for she added quickly, "It's okay, she won't hurt him, she's so nice."

"I'm sure she is," said Maureen weakly. "So she probably... spends a lot of time there... in the loft, I mean."

"A bit. We play a lot of games together, like Yahtzee and Twister. Oh and it's so cute! Mark is trying to write a song for her," she squealed.

Maureen looked mortified. She hoped Mimi wouldn't get it. "He is WHAT?" She felt strange. A new and unfamiliar tingling feeling was creeping under her skin until it settled heavily upon her heart. Maureen tried to ignore that. She didn't have time to interpretations. She needed to know.

Mimi gulped her coffee slowly before answering. "Roger taught him a few things on the guitar... he looked so goofy... but then he started stringing some words together... the melody's not bad, but the lyrics are. You think as a writer, he'd actually write something nice, but it's a bunch of jibberish he's singing. Something about Odysseus and Homer. Tough rhyming Odysseus," she laughed.

Maureen felt as if someone was stabbing her, straight in her heart. "So it's THAT serious, huh? Well, his parents will start talking to him again, at least," she said bitterly.

Mimi looked up to face her. "Why? Did they stop talking to him because of…" her voice trailed off and she looked away. Nonetheless, Maureen knew what she wanted to ask.

She let out a long, sad sigh before she started talking again. "I was there once, when our relationship started to get really serious. His father hated me from the moment I walked through the door, his mother didn't dare to contradict him... the only person who would accept me was Cindy, his older sister. But then again, since it was Mark's father's decision eventually, he gave him an ultimatum- me or them." She locked her gaze with Mimi's. "He chose me. Which brings me back to my former belief that true love lasts forever."

"But then... but then..." Mimi stopped, as if she couldn't complete her thought. She looked at Maureen sorrowfully. "That's so sad. Mark's never talked about these things. Not even to Roger, I don't think. He tells me everything."

"Mark never talks," said Maureen softly, "He films. He takes pictures. That's what he does." For a split second she saw his image before her, his dorkish appearance in his stupid zebra pattered scarf, his glasses… she shook her head to make him go away.

"But then again, it won't happen with Michelle. She's everything I'm not, they'll adore her, like everyone else." She hoped she didn't sound too bitter. Mimi didn't seem to mind.

Maureen kept thinking about their conversation for the rest of the afternoon, even after she walked Mimi back to the loft and headed to her own building later. Her own statements about eternity and true love echoed in her mind, loud and clear as a bell.

She struggled with packages and paper bags up the stairs and sighed with relief as she finally reached her door. She was busy looking for her keys in her huge bag when she suddenly heard something that made her freeze on her track.

A woman giggled, just couple of feet away.

Maureen put her bags gently on the floor as she moved further away from her door and back to the hallway, to take a closer look. She leaned against the wall, as if she would merge with it, if she would only try hard enough. Several more steps and she could peer at the scene that took place short distance away.

Her legs suddenly felt like rubber. Her stomach flopped like after a really bad rollercoaster ride. Her head was reeling. She couldn't stay there, she couldn't watch that, but she was paralyzed. She felt as if she was glued to the floor, her feet didn't cooperate with her mind… so she had to watch.

Michelle was leaning against the doorframe, giggling, as Mark was nibbling at her neck. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, as if to encourage him… and then they kissed.

Maureen thought she would faint when she saw them kissing. It wasn't even a passionate kiss, it was sweet and lingering, but it was enough for Maureen. It suddenly dawned on her what was that strange feeling she tried to ignore hours earlier in the coffee house. It was pure jealousy that had just worsened by the second, as she kept watching them. Mark was obviously over her, he had Michelle, and Joanne had Daisy… and worse of all- Michelle had Mark… HER Mark…

And she was alone.

Oh God, how could he?

She couldn't watch it anymore. It hurt too much. She grabbed her keys and took her things from where she had left them a moment ago. She slipped silently into her apartment, where she leaned against her door and let out a desperate sigh she didn't even realize she was holding.

Was that possible? She didn't even realize she still wanted him before watching him kissing that… that…

"Reeney, is that you?"

Maureen's eyes snapped open as Collins approached her from his bedroom. "Yeah, hey," she managed to say. She hoped he wouldn't notice the fact that her voice was trembling.

Yeah, right. Collins eyed her suspiciously. "Hey, are you all right?"

She shook her head, dismissing his concerns. "I'm okay," she said, flashing a reassuring smile. He returned her smile, not completely sure. "Okay… I've got some good news for you, sweetie."

Is Michelle moving to Oklahoma? "What?"

"I ran into an old friend of mine today, and he had just got himself a new club. He said he was looking for a band and a leading singer and I told him a bit about you… he's willing to give you a one night show to see how good you are, and maybe some more in the future, if you'll do good…" the smile nearly cracked her face. Maureen knew he must have worked really hard to get her that gig, but couldn't think of anything except for Mark and Michelle, kissing in the hallway. She was haunted by that image, which whirled in her mind like an unrestrained tornado.

One tear rolled down her cheek before she had a chance to control it or hide it from Collins. Then another, then another… without further words she dropped her stuff on the floor and ran past Collins to her bedroom. She locked herself inside and dropped herself on her bed, ignoring his knockings from the other side of the door.

Michelle's perfect image slowly faded away as Maureen cried herself to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Bliss. Happiness. Passion. Filming. Poetry. Close-up. Pisistratus. Action. Menelaus. Was there any other way to sum up their relationship? Okay, it seemed like a weird combination, like fries and chocolate ice-cream, but it they were a great match. Really, they were... fries and ice-cream, exactly as so. They went wonderfully together... Really! Well, have you ever tried it? Don't look at me that way!

Mark grinned, shaking his head, when he had told Michelle about that comparison. She laughed, and pushed him gently. She couldn't believe how silly that simulation was.

"Is that really how you think our relationship is?" she asked.

He shrugged. "More or less." She laughed again.

They were on their way to the Johansen's. Mark thought it would be nice if he had some company and perhaps a second opinion during the photo shoot. It shouldn't take long, but he wanted to have someone to talk to. Actually, the truth was that Mark just wanted to try to impress her. He wanted to kind of show her around with the magic of filmography, and hopefully get her interested. He loved sharing things with her, and she was always caring about him. They were like cookies and milk... much better.

"Hey you know what?"

"What?" Mark asked, as they crossed the street, holding hands. He pulled his equipment case with the other hand.

"I just thought of a cute way for people to call us," she said dreamily.

"Perfect?"

She giggled and Mark smiled. "Besides that," she said. "M&M."

Mark almost stopped in the middle of their tracks, but tried not to show any impression that something was wrong. Why did that sound so familiar to him?

"M&M?" he repeated. His voice quivered.

"Yeah. Mark and Michelle. M&M." Her eyes sparkled, and she pressed her lips in pure excitement. Mark crinkled his forehead, worried. M&M was what Maureen suggested when they started going out. He thought it was cute then, hell he thought anything and everything she said was cute, but when Michelle said it, a hard blow kicked him in the stomach. He didn't want to upset her by saying that they couldn't use it because his ex-girlfriend used to have everyone call them that. Oh God... what would everybody start thinking when they hear her say that?

"It's cute! I can't get enough of it. M&M." She giggled.

"It's... umm... unoriginal," Mark mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Quite original," Mark saved himself. Woops.

"We can call each other that. I mean, you're sweet like the candy..." Oh brother, Mark thought. It was torture. He loved her cuteness, but now she was getting corny. "...and I melt in your mouth." Off guard, she stopped in front of him, holding his hand, laying another on his face; she placed her lips against his, drawing into a deeper, sensual kiss. He brought himself closer in, but then she pulled away. Why do they always do that? Mark thought.

"So how's that song going?" she asked.

Mark groaned, and she laughed. He had given her a preview of it, but it sounded awful. The melody he got down all right, but the lyrics were atrocious. He didn't even know what the hell he was saying. He tried appealing to what Michelle enjoyed the most, and the only thing he could think of was epic poetry. He was practicing in front of Roger early that morning, but even Roger got irritated.

"You suck," he said, plain as day.

"I don't suck, the lyrics suck," said Mark putting down the guitar.

"And who thought of those lyrics?" asked Roger. Mark glared at him, and sighed hopelessly.

"Give it to me one more time. Maybe if I think happy thoughts," said Roger.

Mark sighed and picked up the guitar, and started strumming a slow melody. He began the lyrics,

"I never longed for anyone

I never asked for more

I never done no wrong

Except to ask for

Your love,

The way you make me feel

My weakness,

Like that dude Achilles' heel

Your beauty,

as strong as the war at Troy

you make me feel like a little boy

I have but four eyes

not one like Cyclopes-"

"Stop, stop, I can't take the madness!" said Roger, covering his ears.

"Arrgg!" Mark moaned, "This is pathetic. Not even close to what I want."

"You're suppose to be writing a song, not epic poetry!" exclaimed Roger, shaking his head. He then laughed. "Though the Cyclopes thing was kind of funny."

"Shut up." Mark put away his guitar, slowly repenting the day he had agreed to learn the guitar with Roger.

Michelle and Mark were now walking in a nice-looking neighborhood, whitewashed with trees, their long leaves and branches acting as an umbrella as it loomed over the houses. They approached a one-story house, small but cozy, with a mailbox standing near their driveway labeled _Johansen's_. They strode down the pathway, and knocked on the door.

"Hi, I'm Mark Cohen," he introduced himself when a short-haired lady answered the door. She was about his height, blonde, middle-aged, wearing a long-sleeved blue form dress. A little boy, about four, hung onto her leg. He was dressed in a suit.

"Mr. Cohen, come in," she said. She was nice. She allowed them to enter. Mark looked around. It was just like any other house he's entered, well any other picket-fenced house, anyway. "This is Danielle. He's a bit shy. And this is Marianna." Mrs. Johansen picked up a little girl, dressed in a beautiful, long white gown. "Say hi, Marianna."

Mark smiled, waving a bit at the baby. She had gorgeous big river blue eyes. He almost forgot his manners. "Oh, this is Michelle, she's just going to watch."

"I won't be a bother," promised Michelle.

"Not at all," said Mrs. Johansen, smiling. She stuck her hand out toward Mark. "I'm Genevieve Johansen, by the way. Hayden will be out in a minute, he's just getting dressed. Where do you think we'll be taking the photo Mr. Cohen?"

"Call me Mark," he said. It was strange hearing people call him that. "Anywhere's fine, the most popular places are in front of the fireplace, in the dining room. I brought my own setting, if you want something more simple." He began setting up his equipment. Michelle rubbed her palm on the back of his hand.

"Need some help?" she asked.

He grinned. "No thanks, I can do this myself. You relax." As he positioned his tripod, a man came in fiddling with his tie around his neck.

"Genevieve, I can't work these things, help," he said helplessly.

"Men." She shook her head, smiling, and lovingly wrapped the tie neatly around his neck, and looped it perfectly.

"How do you do it?" he asked and kissed her. He looked over at Mark, who was putting the camera on the tripod.

"Mark Cohen?" he asked.

"Mr. Johansen, hi," he said holding a hand out. He shook it firmly. "I see you've met everyone."

"You have a lovely family," said Mark nodding.

"This is Michelle, honey, she's Mark assistant," said Genevieve to her husband. Okay, not exactly, but it's fine, thought Mark. Mark smiled at Michelle who returned it quickly. They decided that they wanted the picture in front of their fireplace, which Mark thought was a great choice because the lighting was beautiful, and their furniture and fireplace was magnetic. He moved one of their tall lamps near their long Chinese designed chair, and it was perfect. Perfect. He told them where to sit- the youngest sitting on her father's lap, and the little boy on his mother's lap. Mark smiled.

"Ready? We're going to put you in a few other positions, but this was seems to be the keeper. Okay, on the count of three I'll be snapping a few, just smile and be happy," said Mark, hiding behind the cover of the camera. "Okay, one, two..." The little boy made a face. Uh-oh. His lips began to quiver, his eyebrows began scrunch up... "Someone's not too happy," said Mark laughing. He peered behind the camera, and smiled at the little boy admiringly. "He's a smart one, pulls it off right when I was getting to three."

"No, no Danielle, all smiles, all smiles," cooed his mother. His father tried to help, but seemed to have made it worse. Mark knew it happened all the time, it was almost foreseeable, that if it didn't happen, something was wrong. He got out a stuffed animal and waved it on the side. It worked on tv, anyway.

"Everyone, up here, don't worry," he said. They all looked up, Danielle still in silent crying. "Look at the bear, big boy..."

"Come on Danielle, smile for me, can you smile?" a new voice entered. Michelle seemed to have been kneeling beside Mark, and getting the kid to stop crying. And like magic, he did, and laughed. Mark quickly took a few shots. Perfect.

After a few more positions, a few more shots, a few laughs, they were finished. A job well done. He told them that he'd have the photo ready in less than a week. They told them that they'd give him more time, and to wait a bit so they could write out a check. Their word was true- they did offer a generous sum.

"That went well. Thanks," Mark said to Michelle, as he packed up, and the Johansen's wrote up the check. "You can make anyone smile, huh?"

"I try my best. I just wanted to help," she said. "I bet the shots you took will turn out wonderful. Although, I hope it doesn't come out too dark."

"I don't think it will," he said locking up. "The lighting was actually beautiful, it extracted the characteristics I wanted to come out."

"I just hope the shadows don't fall on them..."

"No, if anything, the lighting will bring out their greatest features."

"Not from where I was standing."

Mark tried not to stop and look at her. What was she trying to say? He knew more about photography, who was she trying to do his job? No, Mark thought, she was just trying to help. He didn't want to get angry with her. She was merely giving him some constructive criticism- she was studying literature, it was what she did best. Mark understood that. Nothing to get angry about.

"We'll see how it turns out," he said finally. She nodded. Hayden Johansen came up to him and handed him the check.

"I'm sure you do beautiful work. You made this so easy for us," said Mr. Johansen.

"Well, I like my clients to be happy. Your family was a pleasure to work with, and I'll have the photo for you as soon as I can. Thank you."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Johansen, "and we'll be sure to recommend you to all our friends."

"Thank you so much," said Mark. They bid their farewell, and Mark walked Michelle home. It was sort of far, but Mark didn't mind walking. It was the only exercise he ever got. He walked her up the stairs, and to her door. They hugged for a while. Michelle seemed to always love giving long, warm hugs. He teased her by tickling her neck with his lips, and she giggled softly. When they were like this, he had this tremendous feeling inside him. She pulled him closer, as if urging for more, and he didn't disobey. He trailed his kisses to her lips, and they kissed sweetly. After they pulled away, he told her he'd call her soon.

As he walked back home he couldn't help but start thinking about what Michelle had said back at the Johansen's. Was she trying to tell him what to do? He couldn't help think that his little Michelle was bossy, and domineering. No, everyone has that side to them. She's no different. No different...

He entered his loft with Roger fixing up some food on the table. Mark looked at him curiously, and he grinned.

"You're not the only one getting paid," said Roger. "I just got a job with Alex's son."

"Roger... Jacob's four," said Mark.

"I know! It's weird! He wants to learn the guitar... we actually got this guitar his size, it's like the craziest thing. And Alex asked me to be his guitar instructor," he said the last point in a high-fashioned tone, putting his chin up. "Anyway, eat up. It'll be the first real meal in a while."

"I'll be right there," said Mark and headed to his bedroom. He couldn't stop thinking about Michelle. He opened his closet and pulled out the box of memories he kept stored on the top shelf. He lifted the lid, pulled out the letter, and quickly stuffed the box back to its place. He unfolded the letter and read it for the thousandth time.

_Dear Mark,_

_I hope you're doing well. I know things haven't been going too well ever since you left home, but I ask you to reconsider. Work it out with dad. We all just want the best for you, and I'm sure he didn't mean to yell. I just want you to know that you're the most important person in the world to me. I couldn't have asked for a better brother. I love you so much, and I will be behind everything you do. Just as long as you be careful. Truly, I'm sorry for not showing how much I care. You know how it is with mom and dad. It's hard to please them. But I just want you to know..._

_You will always be my pride and joy. You've always made me proud, and you'll continue to do so. Maureen- she's wonderful. She's feisty, but she has livability. She's vivacious, and laughter is her soul. She's loud, but she has strong emotions. She's may be misguided sometimes, but as long as she has someone solid- someone like you- to fall back on, she's okay. She's sexy, she's different. She's someone I would have never pictured you going out with, but you fit perfectly together. You're like ice and fire. Heaven and earth. And I hope you two will be very happy with one another. _

_Call me when you can, honey. I love you. _

_Love, Cindy._

Mark liked looking at this letter when he was feeling doubtful, when he was confused, and needed hope. That letter always gave him hope that everything would be okay. Cindy always gave him that hope, that trust. When Maureen dumped him, he read that letter until he memorized it right to left, left to right. He held onto it, hoping that it would give him that promise, that hope that she'll come back to him. He didn't know exactly why he was looking at it now. He wasn't with Maureen anymore. But maybe it had become habitual with him. Every time he felt doubtful for anything, he looked at that letter. Not just about Maureen. He looked at it when he wasn't sure he should go out, or when he didn't know whether he could trust someone. Knowing that Cindy was out there... well she was the only family he had, that he could depend on. It hurt sometimes looking at it. Sometimes he would realize the reality of everything... but it never failed to give him that love a sister can only give him. The love that Cindy gave him. Thank God there was that.

"Are you okay? Food's getting cold," said Roger knocking on the half-opened door. Mark looked up, quickly folding the note back up and jamming it in his pocket.

"Sorry, I got side-tracked." He got up and followed Roger to the table. On the table was fried chicken, mash potatoes, and carrots and peas. Mark smiled. A hot meal.

"Did you cook this?"

"Of course," said Roger proudly. Then he looked sideways. "Not..."

"I knew it," said Mark taking a seat. Roger sat across from him, and they began helping themselves. This felt a bit odd. It had been a while since they actually had a proper meal together in their own loft. But the hunger pains began as soon as their lips touched the meat, and they devoured the food like dying animals. As they finished, Roger cleared his throat as he poured them some soda.

"So, how's everything with Michelle?"

"Couldn't be better," Mark replied. "She's fantastic."

"I bet she is, you're writing that stupid song for her. But I just have to warn you. No one can beat my song..._You're eyes...as we said our goodbyes..._" He started singing, as he put his dishes on the sink.

"No stop the madness, stop the madness!" said Mark covering his ears the way Roger did at his song. Roger grinned, and Mark put away his own dishes.

"So what were you reading?"

"What?"

"What were you reading?" asked Roger again.

"Oh... just a letter." Roger had seen the letter before. But he never knew how much Mark depended on it for his sanity... or insanity... whichever it was.

"Letter?" asked Roger.

"From Cindy."

"Oh did she write you?"

"It was a letter from a while ago," he answered. Roger looked at him. Mark smirked. He wanted more info. "It's just something I look at when..." when what?

"When what?"

Ohh gee. "When I feel a bit..." down? You should be the happiest man on earth!

"Are you sure Michelle's okay? I mean, do you really like her?"

"Yeah," said Mark. He meant it. "I really do, she's great. I mean, there's no one else I would rather be with."

Roger raised an eyebrow and nodded. "As long as you're happy."

Mark bit his lip and walked over to their living room. He sat on the couch, thinking silently. He looked up, Roger observing him carefully, but disguising it by cleaning up around the room. That was bull. Roger never cleaned.

"Can I ask you something?" asked Mark resisting at first.

"Anything, man," said Roger.

"How... how did you know Mimi was the one? I mean... April..." he stopped. He thought he had crossed the line. This was a really sensitive issue. When Roger was with April, he said that there was no other girl he'd ever love. They were in deep passion, in lust, in love. Mark thought they were it. And then Mimi came along. Now, Roger said that she was the love of his life. How easily could love move? Could it move at all? Was that how it worked?

Thankfully, Roger didn't look too hurt by the question, but he did have a hard enough time answering.

"I loved April," said Roger softly. "I thought I would never feel that way about another girl. After she died... after she did that to me... I knew, there was another girl out there for me. A better one. But I didn't want to find her. I was still in love with April."

"Then how do you know...? Isn't there just one person..?"

"I don't know anything. This is a weird world- I mean, come on, look at this place. I don't know how the stars align, or whether we have soulmates or not. But, now... only now... is what I care about. I care about now. And now is Mimi, and right now I feel as if she's my forever. You've got to have faith. Then what else is there to live for?"

Mark smiled. "Thanks. Thanks that helped me a lot."

"You're welcome. Not sure what I did, but I'm glad I was able to help."

-------------------------

"Right foot, red, Mark, RED!" said Mimi, struggling.

"I'm _trying_!" said Mark, trying to find a place to put his foot. They were playing Twister, and they were bent and turned in weird places, in places some didn't think they could reach. Mimi was on the bottom, and Mark toppled over her, while Roger and Michelle balanced on opposite sides.

"RIGHT foot!" said Mimi. It was hard, but it was a lot of fun.

"Well if your hand wasn't in the way, I'd have an easier time with this," said Mark.

"Mimi, don't badger him, he has TWO left feet," said Roger.

"Roger, get your hand off my ass," said Mark.

"Sorry," he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was Mimi's!"

"I don't have a bony butt like Mark," said Mimi.

"Don't go there Mimi..." warned Mark playfully. "Okay got it. Spin the wheel Mimi."

She spun it. "Okay, Michelle... right hand on yellow."

"Got it," she said.

"That was fast," said Roger. "Mimi, your turn."

"Okay... right foot... right.. foot on... Fuck it!" she slipped away and ran to the bathroom. Mark slipped, and they all fell on top of one another.

"Mimi?" asked Roger.

"Get OFF," said Mark, trying to push him off. Roger scrambled to get up, and stumbled over Mark again. Roger leapt up and ran to the bathroom. Michelle helped Mark up, and they sat themselves on the couch.

"Mimi is everything all right?" they heard Roger call from the hallway.

"Leave me ALONE," she said, and some regurgitating noises were heard. Roger walked from the hallway flinching.

"Hey is Mimi all right? She's been sick like that for a while. Maybe she needs to go to the doctor?" Mark asked.

"I don't know. It's weird. Some days she's totally fine, she's full of life, and then other days she's just... like that."

"Has she been taking her AZT?" asked Mark.

"Yeah, she's been really good about that..."

"Is she pregnant?" asked Michelle.

"That checked out. She just had her period." Roger looked really worried. He was lost in thought. "Maybe it's something she's been eating... or not eating."

"How can she throw up what she didn't eat?" asked Mark.

"I'm not a doctor!" Roger became agitated. Mark knew he didn't mean to spat, so he just became silent. Mimi came in slowly, dragging her feet along the way.

"I'm fine," she said groggily.

"Mimi..." Roger started but Michelle interrupted.

"Mimi, you need to take better care of yourself," she said. "I mean it's bad enough that you have... you have..." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "AIDS," then her voice became regular again, "but you need to eat properly, take your medication, stop going out so much."

"I have been taking care of myself," said Mimi defensively.

"That's not so, because then you wouldn't be in such bad shape," argued Michelle.

"Hey-" Mimi started as Roger said, "Don't talk to her in that tone. Mark? What... Michelle, please have some consideration..."

"I'm just saying, if you truly cared about her, you would make sure she's okay. You're suppose to take care of her," said Michelle.

"I AM taking care of her." He pointed an index finer at her. "Hey, who do-"

"Hey guys chill," said Mark suddenly. What was happening? He stood up. "Enough..."

"Look at her, she's dying. She should have gone to school. Look where life's lead her," said Michelle, gesturing to Mimi who was cowering near Roger's body. Roger wrapped his arms around Mimi.

"Hey, stay out of our business, alright?" said Roger.

"You're the one who did this to her," said Michelle, casually.

"_What_?" asked Roger. "Mark, you better get your girl on notice, she knows nothing about us." He lead Mimi to the door, and then left, slamming it shut.

"Michelle-" said Mark, but she interrupted.

"How dare they? I was only trying to help," said Michelle. Whenever she tries to help, it's like the death of everyone, thought Mark. Why doesn't she just stop helping? That would help us all!

"Michelle, he didn't do that to her. They both had AIDS when they met," said Mark.

"Oh... well then he above anyone else should know how she's feeling," said Michelle.

"Please, Michelle. This isn't easy for them."

The phone rang. Thank God, saved by the bell. He decided not to screen, and went to answer it. He didn't care who it was, as long as it broke the heat.

"I'm sorry. But it's people like that who make me so mad."

People like that? What was wrong with them? Mark tried not to protest. How could she have thought that way? So far she'd been really cool with all his friends, and they really enjoyed her company. What was she trying to do? Ruin everyone? Life was bad enough as it was. Mark spoke into the receiver.

"Hello?" asked Mark.

"Hello Mark? Collins. Remember the gig I told you about?"

Mark thought for a minute. "Not really."

"Maureen's gig? Remember?"

Oh yeah, that was a while ago and he wasn't really paying attention to the news. He didn't really care. If it had the word Maureen in front of it, he didn't listen to anything afterwards. "What about it?"

"I need you here. The equipment's a piece of shit."

"Her equipment won't work?"

"It's urgent, Mark! The wiring's all screwed up, everyone's yelling, the band's screwing around and complaining that their instruments aren't coming out of the speakers- we need you."

"Me? Call an engineer!"

"We need someone cheap!"

"How much do you think I'll work for?"

"Well I was hoping you'd work for loafs of bread. COME on."

"Okay, all right, I'll go!"


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Inspired by one of our favorite numbers _Tango: Maureen_, the following chapter is dedicated to the release of the Rent movie soundtrack, which is TODAY (WOO HOO)!**

**Reviews are most welcome, as always!**

**Chapter Fourteen**

"YOU'RE _NOT_ CALLING MARK!" yelled Maureen before she slammed the payphone's receiver. "Damn it!"

The club was practically deserted except for her and three bartenders who polished glasses behind the counter, and raised their heads, surprised at her sudden outburst. Maureen shot them a dirty look and they resumed their work instantly. She stormed back to the small stage at the far end of the club, where her equipment suddenly broke down half an hour ago. There were cables and wires all over the floor and Maureen just stared at them cluelessly for a moment before she knelt beside the speakers. She had schedules for the tech staff to be there three hours before her show and, though she tried to call them to be there earlier because of an emergency, they were out of town, doing another job, and wouldn't be back until their appointment with her.

Maureen glanced at the clock that was hung above the counter. It was 1 PM, the tech staff would get there in 8 hours or more, and she needed her equipment to be fixed NOW. She had to do something. She had to try and fix it herself somehow. Maybe I'll get electrocuted by accident and I won't have to do this at all, which is only for the better, she thought bitterly as she picked some more cables from the floor and plugged them into one of the two huge speakers.

She didn't even want that gig, but she couldn't let Collins down. She wasn't in the mood for singing and entertaining people she didn't know but she felt as if she owed him that. They hardly spoke to one another in the passing month, and not only because of her bad mood after seeing Mark and Michelle in the hallway. When she went with Collins to meet his friend at his club the next morning, she realized he tricked her again. The club's name was Purple Sky. Several years back, when she had just come to New York, she used to perform there. It was also the place where she first met Mark, which was also thanks to Collins' generous help. Of course she didn't believe him when he swore he didn't know it was the same place. It wasn't like Collins, not knowing such a thing, but she acted as if she didn't care, as if nothing happened. She was too exhausted to argue with him anyway, after hours of crying the night before. Even though Collins tried to ask her what happened that made her lock herself in her bedroom, Maureen told him nothing. Instead, for the first time in her life, she accepted defeat. The show must go on.

Though she was edgy for the entire month, everything seemed to be in control. She and the band rehearsed in the club every morning and everything was going okay, until that morning, when Collins woke her up to answer an urgent phone call. It was one of her backup singers, who told her in a voice not higher than a whisper that there was no way he could perform that night. He had the flu and could hardly speak, not to mention sing. There was not much Maureen could do, because she remembered he didn't look so good when they finished their rehearsal the day before. Okay, two backup singers are as good as three, she convinced herself as she opened her closet and looked for the dress she was about to wear that night. It was plum colored, low cut in the back with spaghetti straps and knee lenght, but it mysteriously disappeared from her closet. She spent nearly an hour looking for it but had to stop when she realized she had to get to the club for final arrangements before their final rehearsal, and as if all that wasn't enough for one morning, while she was putting the mics in place, her damn equipment suddenly died out.

She called the tech staff but they were out of town. Her hands were shaking with anger and despair when she dialed Collins' cell number. I'll get to the hospital with a nervous breakdown when this day is finished, she thought as she waited for Collins to answer her.

And this was when Collins suggested quite innocently to call Mark for help.

Maureen wouldn't hear of it. The last thing she wanted was seeing him, she surely didn't need his help. Also, she wasn't sure she was able to handle face-to-face meeting after seeing him and Michelle kissing in the hallway a month ago. She was still devestated by it, as much as she tried to deny it or pretend that everything was okay. That gig just added some more unnecessary bagagge to her already shaken nerves.

She needed a cigarette, desperately, but she hasn't had her emergency pack with her for months now.

She cursed as she took some cables and crawled over to the speaker at the side of the stage. She had to get the damn thing working again, no matter what.

Another half an hour passed before she leaned back, sighing hopelessly and wiping sweat off her forehead. This is never going to work! She felt so dirty, sprawled on that dusty floor; all she could think about was that hot shower she would step into once she'd get the speakers working again…

Footsteps.

Maureen's eyes snapped open as she glanced up at the counter. As it appeared, the three bartenders who were there with her had gone. Someone entered the club but she couldn't see who it was. The club was dimly lightened by several lamps and faint sunlight from the street, and the entering figure looked like a thin, long shadow…

And then she became impossibly angrier when he approached the stage and she finally recognized him.

"MARK?" she asked incredulously as she got herself up from the floor, dusting off her jeans in the process. He looked different, she realized, but what was different about him? His clothes were definitely the same old Markish style. It might be his hair… it looked a little different yet Maureen couldn't quite figure out in what way. And then she noticed his unmistakable expression, that same happy, satisfied expression Michelle used to have every time they bumped into one another on the hallway. He didn't try to hide it from her or anything, on the contrary, he seemed to be quite proud of it.

Mark looked at her meekly, through narrow eyes, as if he wasn't happy to be there just as much as she wasn't happy to have him there. "Hi."

She let out a frustrated sigh. Damn you, Collins! "I told him not to call you!"

He shrugged. "That's Collins, but… can I help, since I'm here?"

Maureen looked at him. Sure, she needed help, but she didn't want to look too hopeless, and she didn't want HIS help, of all people. Yet, lacking any other possibility, she had to accept his help. "Fine, whatever, take your best shot," she sighed. She hated to accept defeat, especially in front of Mark. She felt exhausted and miserable. She just wanted to get that show over with. Why the hell am I doing it?

Mark joined her onstage and moved closer to the speakers. She followed him there as he observed the messed up cables she tried to plug into them. "I don't know what's wrong with it, it was fine when we left yesterday and now suddenly the mic's not working!" she rambled on, trying to stay distracted. All she kept seeing in front of her was the image of him and Michelle together. She couldn't stand it. It hurt too much.

Mark bent over to take a closer look at the chords snaking its way along the floor. "You're going to wreck the whole stage… you've got too many cables, you're gonna get a power overload…" he murmured as he removed some of the wires. Some of them were tangled together so he tried so separate them by yanking them out.

Maureen launched herself forward to stop him. "Hey, what the hell are you doing, don't touch that!"

He grabbed her wrist to keep her back, but he didn't use much force, as if he didn't want to hurt her. Her breath was caught in her throat as his hand circled her wrist. "Maureen, get away, I know what I'm doing! Look what you've done so far, it's a mess!"

Of course it's a mess, I'm an artist, not a technician, she thought angrily. She felt as if he was mocking her. "You always know what you're doing, right? The great Mark Cohen, always in control over his life." She didn't even mean it, but it was her fury that spoke out of her. She had to take it out on someone. Unfortunately for Mark, he was the only one around. "And I won't go back, I'm responsible for this equipment, I'll pay for it if anything happens, not you, so you better know what you're doing, pulling these out!"

Mark didn't respond to that. He just slapped one of the cables down, as if he was trying to contain himself from answering her back, then pulled out some more cables and went over to the other side of the stage, where he plugged them into a separate extention chord. He looked up at her and nodded towards the mic. "Try the mic. Say something, anything."

Maureen walked over to the mic. She tapped on it but it didn't echo back. It still didn't work. She sighed but tried it anyway. "Test one, two, three…" From some reason, it seemed to irritate Mark who stared at her for a split second before turning away from her.

"That drives me crazy…" he mumbled, mostly to himself, as he moved closer to the speakers and fiddled with some buttons there.

"What did you say?" asked Maureen, who was able to hear his silent complaint. She was getting more annoyed with each passing second.

Mark didn't look at her. His full attention was on the speakers. "What? I didn't say anything," he mumbled in return and kept fiddling with the buttons.

Maureen smirked. Don't argue with him, just leave it, she told herself in a hopeless attempt to regain every piece of self control that was still left within her. She tapped on the mic again. Still, no echo. She couldn't take it anymore. "Oh, DAMNIT!" she yelled, just as Mark switched something.

And the mic miraculously started working.

A loud screeching sound echoed through the club. It was so powerful, Maureen was sure it cracked each glass and bottle on the shelves behind the counter. She turned to face Mark, who was standing right next to the speakers as it happened. He looked wide-eyed, and he had his hands over his ears.

"SHIT! Maureen, don't DO that!"

For a moment, she forgot her anger, her jealousy, her pain. She was really worried about him. "I'm sorry! Shit, are you okay?" Then she pulled herself together and fought back the urge to go there and check on him. "So is it okay now? Can I go back to work now?" she asked impatiently, repressing every spark of concern before he'd notice it.

"NO you can't. Maureen, get away from there… sit down," he gestured at the tables offstage. "Let me take care of this, I've only got two ears…"

She stared at him as he went back to work. "Who do you think you are, bossing me around, Mark?"

"Do you want your equipment fixed?" he shot back.

"Yes I do, but I won't get orders from you like you're my father or my boyfriend or my husband, for God's sake!" He smirked. "What are you laughing at?" she steamed at him. "I need it fixed before everyone gets here, Mark, that means this afternoon. Can you or can't you do it?"

He shot her a dirty look. "With that attitude, I won't get it done at all. I'm tired of that… that…" his voice trailed off, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "That tone," he said eventually, in a lower voice, like he didn't have the nerve to say something else that was on his mind.

"You know what, I'm tired too. Don't do me any favors, I can do it alone!" She felt the stinging presence of tears of frustration, but hurried to push them back. She wouldn't humiliate herself by crying in front of him, she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her falling apart. She was stronger than that. She had to fight back.

"Where's your girl, by the way?" she asked icyly, "How is it that you didn't bring her here?"

Mark's eyes narrowed. He looked as if he longed to move closer and strangle her with the cable he held tightly in his hands but didn't have the nerve to. "Don't bring Michelle into this, she's never done anything to you," he warned her, in a tone as cold as hers.

She couldn't help but smile in satisfaction at his predictable reply. She shot him a look. "I meant your camera, Mark."

An involuntary blush crawled on Mark's face. "What do you care?" he mumbled weakly.

"I was just wondering, since you always bring that damn camera everywhere. Or maybe you don't have time for it now with Michelle around…" she didn't dare looking at him. She distracted herself by messing around with the cables on the floor.

"I told you not to bring her into this… and stop playing with these, you don't know what you're doing! You're gonna burn the whole club down!"

"I'm not!" Maureen was too furious to be aware of the fact that she was holding two bare wires. There was a small explosion as the two wires accidently brushed against one another, and she dropped them and moved back, panicked. "Oh, shit!"

"This is why I told you not to touch anything!" berated Mark as he grabbed her arm and moved her away. "I'm sorry for bossing you around but stop bossing ME around so I can fix your damn mic and get out of here!"

"You can get out of here right now, Mark, what's stopping you? I didn't even want Collins to call you!"

"Hey, I didn't want to do it either, but I'm doing it for Collins, not for you!" he yelled back as he pulled another wire out. The lights went out. Mark growled. "FUCK!"

"DAMNIT! What the hell did you do?" It was completely dark and she had no idea where he was, so she just turned to face the last spot she had seen Mark standing.

"It's just a little... technical difficulty... they're just lights." His voice sounded lower and was accompanied by a rustling sound, as if he was crawling on the floor. "Do you have a candle?" he suddenly asked.

Is he serious? "I'm not walking around with fucking candles in my bag, Mark. I would have had a lighter though, but as you well know I quit smoking, though I wouldn't mind a cig-"

"Maureen, shut up for a second, I can't concentrate with you rambling on and on!" Some more rustling sounds.

"You're bossing me again," she pointed out.

"You can never make this easy can you? You never make anything easy, that's why you're stressing, that's why you're such a drama queen... ah ha!" The lights flickered, then dimmed. "What the-" Mark stopped mid-sentence, scratching his head as if wondering at something.

Maureen didn't care about the lights anymore. "WHAT? If you have something to say to me, Mark, just say it! Don't throw these hints at me, just say what you think! I'm a big girl, I can handle it!"

Mark stood up. Maureen could see he was starting to get really furious himself. Maybe I shouldn't hold back, she told herself. Maybe what I need is a good fight.

"How can I put this in words you're able to understand?" he stopped for a second, as if thinking about it, then looked at her again. "Right... MOOOOOO!"

He did it so dorkishly but at the same time looked so proud of himself, Maureen felt like smacking him. "Don't you 'moo' me, Mark! And get the hell out of here, I'll do it myself!"

"Fine! But I won't forget that lame look on your face Miss Johnson, you lost!" His eyes were like two blazing saphires behind his thick glasses as he glared at her.

It took a moment before what he said had even begun to sink in. "LOST? What do you mean I lost? I never lose!"

"You can't face it, can you? I mean... you're miserable, and I'm not," he sounded proud of himself again, as if it was the most courageous thing he had ever said.

Maureen could not believe he had just told her that. She moved closer to him. "What?" she asked, glaring at him. She felt like punching him, kicking him, do something to wipe that expression off his face… but somehow was able to stop herself. "You know NOTHING of how I feel!"

"YES I do! I know everything of you feel. You feel horrible that you're alone, and that I'm with someone who actually cares about me. You feel exactly of how I felt... when I felt that way…" Though he didn't manage to sound so convincing towards the end, what he said hit Maureen anyway, just as he meant it to hit. She turned away from him. She couldn't face him. That was EXACTLY how she felt.

"Now if you stay quiet, I'll fix everything in a snap," his tone softened slightly, as if he knew she was hurt, "Can you handle that?"

Maureen slowly nodded. She still couldn't face him. "So how is it that you're here instead of with... her?"

Mark hesitated, but only for a second. "I was with her, but Collins called, so…"

"So you abandoned her to come here? How noble of you, Mark," she hoped the sarcasm in her voice was clear enough.

It was. "You know me, Mr. Nobility."

"So what did your father think of her? I'm sure he's happy you finally found the perfect girl to fit into the family, huh?" That was cruel, she knew perfectly well he didn't speak with his father for some time now, but she couldn't stop herself. She only wished she didn't sound as bitter as she thought she sounded.

Mark flinched. She wasn't supposed to notice that but she did. It made her feel even worse. She knew his unstable relationship with his parents was mostly her fault, because he chose her over his family.

"You're right," he said eventually, "She IS the perfect girl." It hit her straight in the heart, but it was only fair after what she'd just told him about his father.

"And she'll never embarrass you, she'll never stand between you and your family, she'll never dump you for a woman… but you know what's wrong with her?" she didn't really wait for him to answer. "She's as boring as you are."

Mark didn't look the least intimidated. "Don't you dare talk about her like that! She may not be as flashy as you are but that's fine! She's intelligent, she's pretty, she's kind…" For a second he looked uncertain at what he was saying, but soon he regained himself and kept talking. "And she'll be twice the person you'll ever be! She makes me happy!"

Maureen couldn't do much but stare at him in disbelief. That hurt. A lot. Was that what Mark thought of her now that he met that perfect girl? That she was a failure? Just because she dropped out of college and still didn't know what she wanted to do with her life?

She shot him a nasty glare. "Can you please fix my equipment and get the hell out of here?"

"Fix it yourself!" he threw a cable in her direction. It hit her on the side of her face and she felt a sting where it struck. Mark gasped when he realized it actually hit her, as if it wasn't his intention in the first place. "Gee, I'm sorr-"

"I want you out of here NOW," she snapped icily. She was hurt, but more of Mark's unexpected outburst than the cable that hit her.

Mark moved closer to her, his expression concerned. "Maureen, you're bleeding…"

She shoved his hand off abruptly. "Don't you dare touch me!" she warned. She touched her face instinctivally. He was right. She was bleeding. It didn't even hurt. "I'm serious, get the fuck out of here, Mark, get the fuck out of my life!" she grabbed a glass she spotted on top of one of the speakers and smashed it against the wall.

Mark ducked instinctively back and offstage, even though it wasn't even aimed in his direction. "Maureen, you're crazy, you know that?"

"If I am, it's your damn fault!"

"And you're crazy for blaming ME! I don't 'moo' or dress up in cat suits!"

"Never heard you complain about that cat suit before!"

"I was afraid it will make you do something like that!" he gestured the shattered glass behind her.

"I'll do it again with good reason. But this time it'll be in your face." Of course, she didn't mean that, but his expression was priceless. He looked terrified though he did his best not showing her that.

"Y- yeah? I- I'd like to s-see you try, Moo Girl."

She laughed. He was pathetic. "Moo Girl? Oh, for God's sake, Mark, you're so childish!"

"Me, childish? May I remind you who has that cat suit in her closet?"

"What does this have anything to do with what I've said?" she glanced around, looking for a glass she could pretend to be throwing at him, but the place was spotless. She got offstage and picked up a chair. "Hey Marky? Even been chased by a chair?" she asked innocently.

He looked at her wide-eyed and put his hands over his head as she grabbed the chair and raised it high in the air. "That's very mature!" he managed to say.

"I've never considered myself as one, as you so well implied a minute ago. I don't lie to myself as you do."

"So you admit it, you ARE crazy."

"I am NOT!"

"Here, you've just lied to yourself!"

"Stop calling me a liar!" she let go of the chair and it smashed on the floor.

"Whoa!" Mark ducked back,in an attempt to get away from her.

Maureen felt like punching him so she followd him. She tripped over a cable in the process and crushed to the floor.

And the lights went out again.

"Oh, SHIT!"

"Maureen, hold still!" Maureen couldn't help but feeling happy to hear that tone. He sounded panicked and somewhat concerned. Maybe he still cared, a little. "I just have to find that cable you pulled…" More rustles as he struggled with wires and cables in the darkness…

Something brushed against Maureen's leg. She shrieked in sudden panic. "What the hell was THAT?"

Mark stopped moving. "I didn't hear anything," his voice trembled slightly.

"No, something… touched me… shit, I hope there aren't any rats in here…"

"R- rats?"

"I hope not." Then she felt it again. It was the slightest touch against her leg, but it was unmistakable. Something was there. "Here it is again!" she smacked it without really thinking about it and then froze in sudden terror. Jesus Christ, did I just hit a hairy RAT? What was I THINKING?

She heard a sudden outcry of pain, and then Mark's voice, "What the-"

And only then it dawned on Maureen what was the hairy thing she had just hit. "Oh, shit, did I just-"

"Yes, it was my head you just hit, thank you very much! I can't see anything in the damn dark!" he yelled, frustrated.

It happened so suddenly, Maureen didn't even have a chance to scream or move back. She heard a bang, and seconds later something big and heavy landed over her just as Mark let out a terrified shriek.

THAT is definitely not a rat, unless that rat uses Mark's aftershave, she thought as she realized it was Mark who was laying on top of her. Just stay calm, play along, you don't really want him. "Hey! What are you doing? Get the fuck off me, Mark!"

Suddenly, the lights flickered on.

"Hellooo, what do we have here?" Maureen turned her head to face Collins, who was slowly approaching them with a wide grin all over his face. Mark turned to face him too and did a hopeless attempt to get off her. He was so surprised to see Collins there, he fell back on top of her again as he let out what sounded like a girly squeal. His face slowly became deep crimson.

Collins tried to remain serious, but he couldn't control his smile. "You know, the janitor's closet is a more suitable place. More privacy…"

"Collins, shut up!" yelled Maureen as she pushed Mark away and sat on the dusty floor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just checking up on how things are going." He eyed them mischiveiously. "So how things ARE going?"

"It's not what it seems," said Mark defensively as he got up from the floor. Maureen's eyes narrowed. He didn't even bother helping her up.

Collins shot them his best I-know-better look. "Sure, sure…"

"Nothing happened here," added Maureen as she got onstage again and tapped on the mic. Thank God, it echoed back. How the hell did that happen? "Test, one, two… patched! Now get the hell out of here, Mark!"

She didn't like that last look he gave her before saying, "Yeah, I'm out of here." He stormed out of the club with no further words.

Collins waited until the sound of his footsteps ceased, then turned to face her. "Okay, now that we're finally alone…"

"Collins, you better wipe that stupid smile off your face," snapped Maureen.

"Are you… okay?" he asked carefully.

Maureen glared at him. He looked so calm, she felt like strangling him. "What do you think? I have a show tonight and I'm less than ready for it, one of my backup singers is sick, I can't find my damn purple dress I planned on wearing tonight, my equipment broke down, I cut my face because of a damn cable, I nearly got myself electrocuted when I tried to fix this mess myself, and to top it all off, MARK shows up here because YOU called him! After I told you specifically not to! So no, Collins, I'm not okay! I'm about to have a breakdown and it's all your goddamn fault!"

"Hey, chill, Reeney-"

"I can't! I won't! Damn it, Collins, I could KILL you!"

"I just thought-"

"No, don't tell me, I know exactly what you thought! Let's get them together, maybe something will come out of that. Isn't that what you were hoping for? Well, forget it, Collins, it WON'T happen! Stop doing it, stop acting like fucking Cupid all the time, you're wasting your time!"

"If you think it's such a waste of time, how is it that you're so upset?" he looked at her intently. Maureen looked away. No, don't surrender to him, he can't know the truth. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you mad or anything… when you called and said you had problems with your equipment, Mark was the first I thought about who could fix it. I know you're nervous about tonight, Maureen, but try to calm down. You'll be great, I know you will," he moved closer and raised her chin so she'd face him. "We okay?"

Maureen slowly nodded. She desperately needed a shower. She had to get the scent of Mark's aftershave off her. It made her head reel. "Can we go home now?"

Collins nodded. "Sure, sweetie, we can go home. You need to get some sleep before your rehearsal later," he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her out of the club.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N- Hey everyone! So did you get the Rent soundtrack? You should, it's absolutely AMAZING, and the music's awesome. It's somewhat different but a great alternative for the OBC soundtrack, though we do miss some of the OBC's stuff! Favorite line, though? "Please sir, could you get me a little Moo?..." ****Fae's favorite line is Mark's- "With Nanette Himmelfarb. The Rabbi's daughter at the Scarsdale Jewish Community Center"- gotta love this one!  
**

**GAH can't wait for November 23rd!**

**Sorry about that emotional outburst... thanks guys for your reviews, and especially for breaking the "awww poor marky" pattern! Keep it up!**

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**Chapter Fifteen**

Maureen was crazy. C-R-A-Z-Y. Mark didn't know how on earth he tolerated her for this long. This was probably the best thing for him though. At least he figured out how crazy she was then he wouldn't have to dwell on their relationship any longer. No more regrets. No more sorrow. She was officially out of his mind and he could throw that stupid memory box away. His life was going just as he wanted without Maureen intervening the way she did. He was doing all right with his filming, except for the fact that he couldn't find his stupid camera. He had great friends, who kept close ties with Maureen... okay, maybe like wasn't going the way he wanted. At least there wasn't much wrong with Michelle. He really liked her, and she understood him. As long as she was there, what could go wrong?

Mark opened the door to his loft, still a bit steamed, but had released some of it from walking. His jaw fell open. He froze.

"Mark, look at you!" She came toward him, arms open, and wrapping him into a hug.

"Mom?" asked Mark. She squeezed him tight, then finally let go, her eyes glittering with fresh tears.

"You look so handsome," she said. She was a blonde woman with Charlie Brown cheeks, about Mark's height. She was almost a stranger to him. And the man standing across from him was even more of a stranger.

"Smile for the camera, Mark," a familiar voice said from the side of him. Mark turned his head and saw Cindy with her video camera, grinning happily, her two kids on each of her leg. Mark gave her a look.

"Smile?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing here? How did you get in? Is Roger home?" Roger wouldn't dare let them in, he knew how Mark felt about his parents. Or the least he would have done was call.

"Hi Mark." Michelle appeared from the other side of him. "I answered the door when you left me here and we've been getting to know each other."

"But why are you guys-" Mark started, but his mom interrupted.

"Cindy thought it would be a good idea if we got together for a small dinner...to work things out... I brought gefilte fish!"

"Again, with the fish," moaned Mark, nodding his head down.

"Mom, please, don't, you know how much the kids hate it-"

"I love gefilte fish!" exclaimed Michelle, going over to help Mrs. Cohen.

Mark turned his head to his loving sister. "Cindy, can I have a word with you?" asked Mark, letting out a fake chuckle. He put down the camera, then kneeled down to the kids. "Do you guys mind helping grandma out with the food?" They ran off obediently. Great kids. He stood up, looking at Cindy."Why didn't you warn me that Medusa was coming over?"

"Mark, don't call her that," said Cindy, sort of laughing. "Besides, why didn't you tell me about Michelle?"

Mark groaned. "Touche." He looked over to his dad, who was looking toward the walls and ceiling as if he was a building inspector. "Did you have to bring him along?"

"He's the whole reason why we're here. You and him."

"I have nothing to say to him," he said.

"Oh by the way, your closet is a mess."

"What were you doing in my closet?"

"Sisterly donation. I had a box of old clothes of mine and the hubby's. Thought you could use it for costumes in whatever films you're doing. Just accredit costumes designer as Cindy the Magnificent."

"Haha..." Mark caught what she said, but couldn't help stare at his father who kept looking at his furniture. "What is he doing?"

"Dad! Come say hi to the baby boy of the family. Look how he's grown, isn't he handsome?" asked Cindy pulling Mark's arm toward his tall, dirty blonde haired father. His father looked at him with stern, cold eyes and Mark felt as if he was ten again, and his father was chastising him for doing something wrong.

"Hello Mark," he said, his voice low, almost terrorizing. Mark stepped back.

What do I call the man? Dad? Father? Dictator? Godzilla? "Joe," he said simply. His father looked at him for a second.

"So how are you?" he asked. Mark didn't want to answer at first. He wanted to tell him to get out of his home, get out of his sight, get out of his life. But he couldn't do it in front of the kids. In front of Michelle.

"I'm doing all right." Mark was keen not to say anything to upset. Although he wanted to give him something to get angry at, he tried his best not to say anything that would push his buttons.

"Well, this is going...well," said Cindy, wrapping on arm around her dad, and the other around Mark. She pulled them closer to her, so that Mark and his father were inches away from each other. Mark looked away.

"The least you could do is shake his hand," murmured Cindy to her father. He glared at Mark and slowly stuck a hand out. Mark shook it hesitantly. It was firm. He could feel his father gripping harder at every shake. Finally, Mark had to pull away. He still hates me, thought Mark.

"Eat up everyone!" called Mark's mother from the table. The food was ready, but Mark didn't feel all too hungry. Either way they all sat around the table, Michelle sitting in between Mark and his mom, and Cindy sitting beside Mark and her two kids, who shared a chair. They began to eat. It was silent for a while, and Mark could see Cindy looking back at him and his father at the corner of her eye, probably thinking of a way to get a conversation going. But she didn't say anything for a while either. Maybe she finally came to her senses and gave up on them. Suddenly...

"So Michelle, how long have you and Mark been going out?"

"Several weeks now," she answered, wiping her lips with a napkin. "We're so happy together, and we have so much in common."

"It's so nice for Mark to finally find a pleasant, Jewish girl," commented his mother cheerfully. "Smart, sophisticated, sweet."

"Sweet," mumbled Michelle to Mark and she giggled. "M&M."

Mark bit his lip and his mom cleared her throat. "What was that dear?"

No, don't say it, he thought, but his power of thinking wasn't strong enough. Michelle laughed a bit. "M&M. I thought it was a cute nickname for Mark and I. Oh I know it's a bit childish, but Mark makes me feel very special."

His mom laughed, and Cindy joined in, pinching Mark's leg from under the table. Mark looked down mortified. Did she really have to tell his parents? Even Maureen had the knowledge not to embarrass him in front of his parents. He slumped down, and slowly slid from his chair. Ugh...

"Marky, please don't slouch at the table, it's rude," said his mother, peering over her glasses at him. He sat up slightly, but felt foolish having his mom tell him what to do.

"He's never had good posture," his dad mumbled.

"He's always had good posture, it's just that he hasn't been eating right. Look how awfully thin you've gotten Mark. Here have some more gifilte fish..."

"No, mom..."

"He never eats enough vegetables, that's why he's so thin and pale-looking," his father continued bitterly.

"He's not pale-looking because of vegetables, he's pale-looking because of his complexion. For goodness sakes Mark, don't look at me that way." Mark gave Cindy a look, but she was busy tending with her kids.

"If the boy only went to college," said his father.

"I went to college," Mark started, but his mom cut him off. Again.

"What does going to college have to do with anything we've been discussing?" demanded his mom.

"Well, we were on the topic of Mark's failures right?"

"Joe!"

"Dad," warned Cindy icily. Mark sighed. He didn't feel all too hurt because he's heard it all before. He tried not to glance at Michelle.

"With all due respect, I don't think your son is a failure. He's protective, caring, and trustworthy. Those qualities are far more noble than anything they teach you in school," said Michelle proudly.

Mark smiled a bit. He was glad that someone finally stuck up for him, and at first, he thought his dad was going to hit the roof. Instead he stared at her thoughtfully, and then smiled. Mark hadn't seen him smile for years.

"You are one smart girl. You," he gestured to Mark, "better hold on to her. Instead of the other things you've been holding on to..." Please don't mention her name, thought Mark. If he did Mark couldn't be held responsible for what he'd do next.

"Don't say that about Roger," said Cindy quickly. She glanced at Mark. He blinked once, thanking her. His father looked at her confused. She just stared at him as if she didn't know why he was giving her such an awkward expression.

"Oh, how is Roger by the way?" asked his mother.

"He's fine," answered Mark.

"Does he still do that...that thing?"

Mark looked at her curiously. "What... thing?"

"Oh you know, that thing. Stones, boulders...and tumbling or what not."

"Rock and roll, mom," said Cindy in disbelief.

"Right, rock and roll," she said brightly. Michelle laughed and Mark couldn't help but smile. His parents were so behind the times, that it was almost amusing as it was humiliating. They were probably still stuck in the classical age. It wasn't surprising when she went berserk at the thought of so many people doing drugs and having unsafe sex when he moved here. She tried to get him to stop, but he just had to get away. In his deep thought he almost didn't notice the kiss on the cheek Michelle gave him.

"Oh, isn't that sweet?" said Mark's mom. "Isn't that sweet Joe?"

"Mmm..." his father leered at him. Mark tried to avoid him by taking a sip of water.

"Marky, have the thought of marriage crossed your mind?" his mom asked. Out of immediate reaction, he spit out his drink and it scatter as a spray. Cindy and the kids laughed.

"For God's sake Mark-" his dad said standing up at the same time his mom said, "Mark what has gotten into you?"

Mark wiped his mouth, and he choked a bit. "M-marriage?"

"Yes..." his mom said wiping her face. "I mean you've got the perfect girl right here, and you're at the right age. It's about time you started thinking about commitment."

Mark looked at Michelle with apologizing eyes. "I'm sorry.."

"Don't be, my parents are the same way," she said.

Mark smiled, and then turned to the woman who gave him birth. "Mom, marriage... I don't know, I never thought-"

"You should think! You can't live here all your life."

"Wedding bells are ringing, wedding bells are ringing," singsonged Cindy softly.

"Somewhere else...not here," murmured Mark to his sister.

"Naomi, how is he going to commit when he doesn't have a decent job?" asked his father, his voice slowly rising.

"Dad, please, keep your voice down," implored Cindy, but his father had left the table. Mark looked at his mother, who gave him a worried look, and excused herself from the table. Michelle took Mark's hand and held it tight. He felt comfort within her.

"Work things out," said Cindy softly to Mark. Michelle nodded in agreement. But Mark didn't know how he could possibly work things out with a man as stubborn as him. He was sick and tired of hearing how disappointed he was of his son. He didn't want to hear his complaints, or his lectures about leading a stable life. He just wanted his biological father to leave him alone, where he could live life in peace. Friendship was thicker than blood, he convinced himself. He didn't need him. But still, Cindy was looking at him desperately. She wanted peace too.

"Look, dad..." said Mark, standing and walking a few steps closer to him. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll try to do better."

That was the hardest thing he ever had to say. He felt ashamed doing it, but he would do anything for Cindy. Anything to bring serenity. His father turned to him, unsure of what to say at first, and then nodded.

"That's all I ask for, son." Mark cringed. He hated his father calling him that. He tried to like him, he tried to forget, but he just couldn't suppress the memory.

"So, maybe you can go into accounting and quit all this filmography nonesense you do. I have a buddy at work-"

"What? Quit filming altogether?" asked Mark. The man had to have some dignity, some compassion.

"Well, yeah if you want to do better. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah, but I was thinking more along the lines of opening my own business with my photography. It's not exactly what I want, but at least-"

"Mark you have to understand that this filming you do...it's a hobby. It's not meant to be a career."

"I love filming-"

"As a hobby. I mean how would Michelle feel if she has to do all the supporting?" They both looked at Michelle. Mark looked at her in shock. They weren't even married! His father looked at her as if he expected an answer. And she gave them one.

"I... I do think that your filming can become a side career. I mean something to keep you occupied on the side. There's so many other things you could do out there, that can make you more successful," she said to Mark.

"See, even your girlfriend agrees," said his father.

"Michelle. Michelle I thought you supported my work!"

"I...not really... I mean!" she looked at him desperately. "I think you have more potential than that!"

"I don't believe this," said Mark. He looked at Cindy for help, who was watching from a safe distant. She was holding both her kids hands. She just looked at him concerned.

"Mark, you can't expect us to live on what your work pays," said Michelle.

"I'm sorry, when did I propose? Between the servings of the gefilte fish?"

"Mark!" said his mother, wrapping her arm around Michelle.

"I'm not getting married!" exclaimed Mark.

"Don't be selfish, Mark-" his mother started.

"Selfish!" he tried to calm down. He didn't want to set a bad example for the kids. He didn't know when Michelle turned on him, but he couldn't be more upset with her. He thought she would at least take his side on all this. She never complained before. She was just like them. She was the epitomy of the girl his parents always pressured him into marrying. Was he turning into one of them?

"Mark, if you didn't waste your time-" his father began.

"I'm wasting my time right now, talking here with you." His mother gasped, and Mark didn't regret it. His father stared at him fiercely.

"Listen to me Mark, you're going to end up with such disgrace and are going to regret everything you've done. You should have listened to us, we know what's best for you!"

"You don't know the first thing about me!"

"The hell we do Mark, it's because you keep running away from us, running away from your fears! You should have been more like your sister! Look where she is, totally content with her life!"

"Dad..." Cindy said, drawing farther away from them. Her kids held her leg tight, and she tried to cover them gently, turning their faces away from the scene. They began to whimper, but not entirely cry.

"You demean this family, and disappoint us. We thought our boy would grow up to make something of himself than create nonesense shit, make-believe crap!" his father bellowed. Rebecca began to cry, and Cindy picked her up.

"Dad, stop!" said Cindy. Suddenly the door swung open and Roger walked in. He stopped when he saw everyone in the room. He knew instantly that he stepped into a family argument.

"I'll just be leaving..." he said, but then Cindy stopped him.

"Wait, Roger! Take the kids, please... please take them," she said. She handed him Rebecca who buried her head in his chest. Roger just nodded, obliging to the poor woman's cry for help, and led her kids out the door.

"How can you hand your kids off to a deadbeat like that!" demanded their father.

"He is NOT a deadbeat!" wailed Cindy. "I trust Roger, he would make a great father!"

"HA! I pity his child, making them suffer the life he's suffering all because he was too stupid to have unsafe sex!"

"It was a mistake..." Cindy said.

"Don't talk about Roger that way, he's changed," said Mark. "He's bettered himself, he's turned around, you wouldn't know, of course!"

"The man has AIDS! Or has he given you a different perspective? Has he influenced you to screw around with people without a condom? With people like Maureen?"

"Keep her out of this! I want nothing to do with her," said Mark bitterly. He couldn't believe he brought her up. He couldn't believe these wild accusations. How could he possibly think that the son he raised would even make these type of choices? If only they gave him the praise, the encouragement, he wouldn't be so resentful.

"Oh God, she didn't..." his father said.

"What?" asked Mark, disturbed.

"She didn't give you that deadly disease, did she?"

"Mark..." said his mother.

"NO! She doesn't even HAVE..." Mark let out a cry of frustration. "THERE you go jumping into conclusions. Why do you always assume the worst for me? For once, can't you believe that I'm happy?"

"Happy? How could you possibly be happy!" his dad screamed. "You're yelling!"

"YOU'RE yelling!"

"Go to your room!"

"Gah!" Mark stomped to his room and closed the door. He threw himself on the bed, and covered himself with the pillow. Then he suddenly sat up. WHY am I in my room! But he was too afraid to go back out. He didnt want to admit defeat. He just needed to be alone. Great idea Cindy, he thought, I know this isn't what you wanted! But look where it's led us.

A knock came at the door. "Mark?"

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

"I don't feel like talking."

"Mark, please..."

"Michelle, I really don't want to talk to you right now." He tried to say it as gently as possible, but at the same time make sure she got the message. Silence approached after a few moments passed. He didn't know what was happening on the other side of the door. But for a brief while he didn't care. How could he be betrayed like that? Not just by Michelle, but by Cindy as well. He thought Michelle would always take his side. He felt like he could protect her through anything, and that she could always count on him. In turn, he thought he could count on her. But she was just like them. She didn't want him to be himself. She wanted him to be the perfect, successful Jewish man that he'd learned to hate.

And Cindy... he loved her so much and he knew that she only meant to make things right. But being a family man wasn't right for him. He would hang on to Cindy if it meant his life. But he didn't know what to do about his parents. He just wanted them out of his life. He couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't just screen his calls for nothing. Even if it meant cutting all known contact with his parents just for him to be happy, he would do it. They were too different. They wanted other things. They didn't understand him, they didn't understand his situation, his friends. He had to break it off from them. He had to do it. And not only that. He had to work things straight with Michelle.

He knew that he couldn't change her. But she was understanding. Perhaps if they compromised and worked things out, things could be right again. Once this day was over, everything will go back to normal. Right?

Another knock on the door.

"What?"

"Mark, it's Cindy..."

Mark jumped off the bed, and quickly opened the door. She slipped in, and he locked the door. They instantly embraced. Mark finally felt some of his heart lifting. She was the only one who truly understood her. Her and...

"I'm sorry," she sobbed softly. Mark hugged her tighter. "I tried..."

"I know. But we can't do this. I can't go through with it. I hate the man."

She pulled away slowly and looked into his eyes. She had been crying for a while. "I wanted you guys to get along. Why us?"

He pulled her in for another hug. "I stopped asking that question a long time ago. I try not to worry about the past and keep asking why. Now I think about the present. I think about now. What matters now." Softly he praised Roger for his great advice. He was really his best friend.

"I love you Mark, my precious little baby brother," she said wiping the tears from under his eyes. He smiled, and kissed her forehead.

"Is it safe to go outside?" he asked.

"They've left."

"Good."

"Michelle is still here." They walked out and saw Michelle pacing around the living room. She walked over to him expecting an embrace but Mark turned his body, letting her know that he was still upset with her. She paused, and looked away, pressing her lips together. Roger walked in, peering his head from the doorway, looking from side to side.

"Can we come in?" asked Roger. He had Rebecca in his arms who was sleeping peacefully. Adam was yawning, and ran to his mother to pick him up.

"Thanks Roger. Just lay her in the stroller, and we'll be on our way. I can't thank you enough." She picked up Adam, and Roger laid Rebecca down.

"No problem. I'll see you out the door," he said and helped her with her stuff. She waved goodbye to Mark, and they left without another word. Mark feared that this was going to be the last visit from her for a long time. He looked at Michelle, then gestured her out. He didn't have anything to say to her.

"Mark, please understand..." she started.

"We can work it out in the morning," he said giving her hope, but letting out a sense of authority he never mastered with anyone else. She nodded reluctantly and went out. Mark closed the door, and Roger stood behind him.

"Whoa. What...happened?" asked Roger.

"Long story," said Mark falling on the couch. Roger sat across from him.

"I didn't expect that they would ever come here," Roger said.

"Cindy invited them for lunch. That we could work things out. We didn't."

"Lunch huh? Any left?"

Mark laughed. "Check the refrigerator. Mom must have stored it all away or brought it with her. Not sure."

Roger went up to go into the kitchen. Mark grabbed Roger's guitar from behind the sofa, and softly began to strum the melody he was working on. It was actually coming along nicely. The words, he decided to change all together. He gave up on the epic poetry stuff. He just wanted to start afresh. In his mind he tried to think of something decent. But then he couldn't stop thinking about Maureen. She just popped in his mind all of a sudden and flashes of the first time Maureen met his parents came running along his mind. He tried to shut her out. Think of Michelle, he thought desperately. Think of how happy she's made you. With her in mind, he softly sang,

"Come closer

you're the one I've been longing for

Come near

there's no one else that I want more

Every time you're here, all my taunting fears, slip away

I just want to say..."

He stopped. Not bad, he thought, not too bad. Suddenly a shattered glass was heard from the kitchen.

"Roger is everything all right?"

"Mark... What the hell did I just put in my mouth?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Maureen stared at her reflection in the small mirror that was hanging in the tiny dressing room. She looked good, she knew she did. She finally found her dress that afternoon, hung on its rack behind her bedroom door. It clung to her body like second skin, just as Collins said it would when he helped her pick it in the shop several weeks ago. Her hair miraculously complied to her and was now streaming down her back in soft curls. Her make-up looked pretty good too.

She wished she could only feel as perfect as she looked.

Yes, a shower and an afternoon nap worked their magic on her as always, but it wasn't enough. She was still wrecked. She knew the reason for it. It was not a stage-fright. She was never intimidated by the spotlight, there was no reason for her to get intimidated now. It was pure heartache, clear and simple. She'd rather have stage-fright over being so heartbroken, which was two and three times worse.

One of her backup singers knocked on the door and said they were on in thirty minutes. Maureen took a long gulp from the bottle of water that was on the table, then glossed her lips. She was trying not to ask herself the one question that was bothering her ever since she entered the club three hours ago.

Would he be there?

She didn't dare hope that he would, not after everything that happened earlier that day. And he probably wouldn't bother, either, he'd rather spend his time with Michelle instead of hanging out in a club that wasn't his style anyway.

Maureen couldn't help but think back of that day when they first met in that club, under the same circumstances, more or less. Outside, she could hear Collins' friend announcing that her performance was to start in twenty minutes. His voice was somewhat muffled by the closed door, but the applause was so strong they pierced their way through it.

The applause still echoed in her ears as Maureen made her way offstage. She was sweaty and tired, even though she could still feel the adrenaline pounding simultaneously with her heartbeat. They had a great show tonight, she thought with sheer satisfaction and caught a bottle of water that her drummer threw in her direction.

Out of nowhere appeared Collins and wrapped his arms around her in a huge crushing hug. "Maureen, beautiful! I'm in tears!"

She rewarded his compliment with a brilliant smile. She couldn't believe he was actually there. He kept promosing he'd come to see her one day, but he was always too busy grading papers and exams, even when he wasn't teaching classes. He always had something else to do. "Collins, you actually made it, unbelievable! What happened to the pile of papers I keep hearing about since last month?"

He smiled and loosened his grip a little so he could face her. "Finished. Call me brilliant, I know." They both chuckled. "But you were great up there. You were always one of my more creative students." He hesitated for a slight second, then asked, "How's your, ummm… love life, by the way?"

Maureen eyed him suspiciously. "Never better… why?" She was wondering what was he hiding under his sleeve. He said nothing, but his changing expression told her everything she needed to know. "Collins, please don't tell me you have anything in mind…"

He cut her protests. "There's this nice guy, and he just needs a little more excitement in his life. He's cool though, he's cool," he added quickly as if the panic was clearly reflected in her eyes. "He's great, you'll love him," he assured her. "When I first pictured you two together I told myself 'they were made for each other.'" He snaked his arm around Maureen's waist and gestured at a group of high tables close to the bar.

He pointed at one of them, where two young men were sitting. "See that table over there? Join 'em. I'll be back in a flash." He kissed her cheek and disappeared as fast as he showed up.

"What? Wait, Coll- oh, fuck it…" she sighed, then slowly approached the table Collins pointed at. She could see the two young men more clearly as she drew closer. One of them was very handsome. He had a rockstar look with a worn out leather jacket, and his brownish-gold hair spiking up. The other one was blonde and much shorter, or at least, he looked shorter because he was hunched over the table. He kept sending terrified glances everywhere through thick glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. He didn't even look old enough to get into that club alone. Maureen's glance focused on the good looking guy again, and her smile broadened. Oh my, it looks like Collins finally knew what he was doing, she thought as she leaned on their table. Her eyes locked with the handsome guy's green eyes as he raised his head to face the person who interrupted his conversation.

Maureen flashed him her best smile. "Hi there."

He broke from their gaze first and looked at her, all of her, as if he was taking in her appearance, from her high heels to her little black dress to her face and back to her eyes. Then he returned her smile, as if he was satisfied with what he had just observed. "Hi."

Maureen felt a sudden weakness in her knees. He had a gorgeous smile. "Mind if I sit down?"

He pulled a high chair out for her, making the blonde guy slouching shyly away. "I'm Roger Davis, this is my friend Mark Cohen."

Maureen flashed him another brilliant smile as she sat down. "Hi Roger." Then she remembered the other guy and glanced over at him as well. "Mark," she said shortly but soon turned her full attention back at Roger, who was staring at her goofily. "So, did you enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, yeah you were great up there, stunning," he said in a low, sexy voice and moved closer to her. She could see Mark rolling his eyes at his friend's obvious interest in her, but didn't really mind. She was interested as well. That Roger was HOT. "I didn't catch your name, by the way," he murmured huskily, impossibly closer to her.

"It's Maureen. Maureen Johnson. You'd better remember it when I'm great and famous."

"How can I forget a pretty face? Say Maureen, would you like a drink?" He didn't wait for her reply, just raised his hand to catch one of the waitresses' attention.

"So, ummm… how long have you known Collins?"

"Collins? Oh, we've known him forever. Mark's known him for the longest time though, right Mark?"

Mark didn't look up when he mumbled something that sounded like "yeah."

A waitress finally showed up. "A bottle of tequila…" started Roger, then looked over Maureen's shoulder. "Mark, anything?" Mark shook his head. The waitress was gone and Roger leaned closer to Maureen again. His breath was hot on her neck when he whispered in her ear, "He's kinda shy. I'd order him a virgin drink but I'm afraid he wouldn't know what to do with it…"

Maureen giggled and did her best concentrating the conversation, though it was easy to get distracted by his sexy voice… or his hypnotizing eyes… "Are you from around here?" she asked casually, avoiding eye contact.

"We don't live too far… Nice cozy loft, you should see it sometime."

Maureen rewarded his suggestive innuendo with a seductive smile. "Maybe I will…"

"Oh, yeah?"

The waitress and Collins got back to the table at the exact same time, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. The waitress put the tequila bottle on the table, along with several glasses, and gone. Collins stayed standing behind Maureen's chair.

"How's everything?" he whispered in her ear.

Maureen didn't remove her gaze from Roger's. "Everything's just… perfect."

Collins smiled, satisfied and somewhat relieved. "Good! So you and Mark are good?" he wasn't whispering anymore. Mark's head shot up in surprise as he heard Collins' question. Maureen didn't really notice it, she was too distracted drowning in Roger's eyes.

"Huh?" she murmured, still not facing Collins.

"You… and MARK," he repeated, and waved his hand in front of her.

Maureen snapped out of her trance and turned to face Collins with utter confusion. To her right, Roger was grinning. "MARK?"

"Excuse us!" Roger got up abruptly and pulled Mark away.

"Wait a sec, Collins, you said-"

"Who did you think I meant?"

He looked so amused and proud of himself; unfortunately, Maureen didn't find the whole thing funny at all. Her eyes were burning with anger. "I guess it wasn't as obvious as I believed! For God's sake, Collins, what the hell were you thinking? I thought you had good taste in guys, THAT's why I keep you, remember?"

"Mark's cute!" he cut her off defensively.

"Exactly! Cute! I don't do 'cute'!"

"Oh come on, Maureen! Look at the poor guy! He's so… pitiful…" They both looked away at the bar, where Roger was obviously trying to inflitrate some courage into Mark, who kept staring downward at his sneakers. Collins had a stupid wide grin on his face as he turned to look at Maureen again. "You didn't expect to get Roger, did you?"

Why do I feel so humiliated? How the hell was he able to trick me that easily? "Why the hell not? He's just my type, as I thought you well knew. The other one's just… I mean come on, Collins, he looks barely 19, I'm not a cradle robber! I quit babysitting when I turned 16!"

Collins didn't even flinch in front of her outbreak, which made her even more furious.

"He just needs loosening up. I bet you he can be really sexy if he takes off these glasses… and shirt… and pants… hmmm…" his voice trailed off as his gaze wandered over at Mark. He looked at him thoughtfully for a split second before he turned his attention back to Maureen. All of a sudden, he became serious. "Please be nice. Besides, Roger is taken."

Maureen's eyes shot fire at him. "Oh, NOW you're telling me!"

Collins laughed. "How could a good looking guy like him not have a girlfriend? Come on, just be nice! Look, they're coming over."

Roger was still grinning goofily as he and Mark sat back. Mark was still avoiding any eye contact with his sorroundings. Maureen just sat there frowning. She had no intention to take part in Collins' stupid plan.

There was an awkward silence around the small table, until Collins took over. "SO! Are we all having a good time?" he let out a hearty laughter that was soon died away, when no one joined it. He scrunched his eyebrows. "This isn't going to be easy," he muttered and knudged Maureen. "Compliment him," he ordered her in a whisper.

She turned to look at him, furious. "What?" she hissed back, "There's no way I'm taking any part in this, Collin!"

"Fine, if that's how you want it," he said shortly. Maureen recognized the disappointment his voice carried. It made her upset. She loved Collins, he was her best friend. She just didn't want to humiliate herself more than she already did, flirting with the wrong guy.

She watched Collins as he poured a shot of tequila and pushed it towards Mark. "You know Mark, Maureen is too flushed to say it, but she thinks you look hot in those glasses."

Maureen's head shot up. She stared at Collins in disbelief. She could sense the involuntary blush that started forming on her face. "WHAT?"

That seemed to snap Mark out of his trance-like stare at the table. He looked at Collins, then at Roger in an expression than was both eager and shy. Pitiful looking indeed, thought Maureen.

Mark tried to pick up the glass Collins pushed towards him. His hand was shaking so badly that he dropped it, spilling the tequila in the process.

Maureen flinched back. "Hey, careful!"

Mark snatched some napkins and tried to dry out the table as he murmured a stammered apology in her direction.

Roger leaned forward again. "I told you he wouldn't know what to do with it…"

Maureen giggled, but not as heartily as before. Flirting with taken guys wasn't her style. She glanced at Mark. Poor little thing, he looks so nervous and embarrassed, she thought. Just for that moment, she decided to swallow her pride. That boy DID need some loosening up. Besides, that could be my good deed for this week, she told herself as she took a deep breath and asked cheerfully, "So, ummm… Mark? What do you do, are you a student?"

Collins' grip tightened around her waist. She could feel his smile nearly piercing her back as he bent to whisper in her ear, "Better."

"F-filmmaking. I film."

Maureen ignored Roger's expression. BOOOOORING was written all over his face, but she didn't care. She was on a mission now. She flashed Mark a reassuring smile. "Showbusiness? Sounds like fun! Anything I'd know?"

He laughed softly. "I do independent stuff, I'm not really… in showbusiness."

She put her hand on the table absentmindedly. "Too shame," she smiled, slowly covering his hand with hers. "Why don't we… go back to that 'nice cozy loft' of yours, and you could show me some of your work?…" From the corner of her eye she could see Roger, who was choking on his drink. Mark blushed deep red as he stared at her wide-eyed.

Collins grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?" was his furious whisper.

She smiled innocently at him. "Being nice, as you asked me to." She turned her attention back to Mark and smiled flirtaciously. He turned to look at Roger, who still looked a little shaken himself but gave his friend a go-for-it nod.

Collins sighed, as if she was a hopeless case. "Gee, you're awfully quick at heart, aren't you? Don't hurt him now," he warned before he let go of her arm and grabbed Roger's instead. "Let's leave them to get better acquinted."

Maureen stared at him startled and slightly panicked. It was one thing doing this with so many people around them. Could she possibly do this one-on-one? "You're leaving?" she asked just as Mark stammered the same question.

"We're leaving?" whined Roger. It seemed as if he enjoyed the scene and didn't want to miss the rest of it. Maureen guessed that Mark's lack of confidence was an easy target for the good looking and obviously popular Roger. He was probably teasing Mark mercilessly about it, making jokes or just enjoying to torture him. What a jerk, she thought. She couldn't help but feel sympathy towards Mark, who look terrified to stay there alone with her.

"Yes, we're leaving. Let's go, Roger," said Collins sternly. "Look, there's April!"

"Where?" Roger got up and followed Collins, falling for his trick.

Maureen waited until they mingled with the crowd and disappeared from her sight, then turned her attention back to Mark. "Who's April?"

"His girlfriend…" he shifted in his seat, still not looking directly at her. "I… I hope you're not too disappointed," he added weakly. Maureen raised a questioning eyebrow at that. "W-well… I mean… I hope you're not disappointed about g-getting stuck with me instead of… instead of…" his voice trailed off in embarrassment. Maureen shook her head in protest. That poor guy lived in Roger's shadow for too long. Someone had to do something to regain his confidence.

"I'll get over it," she said lightly and smiled, to assure him that she was kidding. "I hope YOU are not too disappointed, though."

"Wh-wh-me? Dis-dis-disappointed?" he let out a short dorkish giggle that made Maureen smile. There was something very honest and natural in that giggle that touched her heart. He didn't try to hide the fact that she was making him nervous. He was not pretending to be someone he wasn't. She admired that in a man. "Why would you say that?" he added quietly.

"You don't seem very happy to be here so I thought…" Then a frightening thought crossed her mind. He was a friend of Collins, after all… She eyed him suspiciously. "Or maybe it's not girls that you're interested in, huh? Are you and Roger…?"

He didn't get her hint. He glanced over to where Roger and Collins were sitting with two men, then realized what she meant and turned to face her, panicked and embarrassed. "NO! No, he has April! She's a girl, I think… I mean! I like girls just fine!" he ended, looking at her miserably, as if he was mortified by what he had just said.

Maureen leaned a little forward. "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Mark?"

"No… not a real one, ummm… that's not what I mean, I mean… never committed. Never met anyone as magnificent, yet. W-why?"

Maureen smiled lightly. "No reason, just… wondering. How old are you, anyway?"

"23, and you?"

She couldn't help but smile with great relief at his reply. She trully believed he was much younger than her. "I'll be 22 in May."

Finally, Mark dared and looked at her, REALLY looked at her, for the first time since she came sitting with them. Maureen suddenly noticed how remarkably blue his eyes were behind these damn thick framed glasses.

She knew she had to make the first step for him, for he would never dare doing it himself. He was too shy for it, but it didn't even both her, from a reason she couldn't quite explain. She touched his hand gently. "You might want to ask me out…"

Mark hesitated. He sent sideway glances at Roger, as if he needed his help, but then faced her again and smiled. Maureen sighed with relief. An honestly comfortable smile, at last. "W-would you like to go out? Tomorrow night?" he bit his lip with anticipation and glanced at her anxiously.

Does he really think I'll turn him down after all that? I'm not THAT cruel. And he's too cute to disappoint. A slow smile appeared on her face as she nodded her agreement. "Sure."

A huge grin nearly cracked Mark's face. Like he was just told he won a ticket to Disneyland, thought Maureen. "Really? Great! I'll meet you at your place… I mean, I'll pick you up…" he started digging through his pockets, taking out paperclips, mints, receipts, a piece of paper and, eventually, a pen. He handed it to Maureen, who scribbled her address on the paper.

"Eight o'clock?" she asked as she slipped him the paper back with a smile.

Mark's eyes twinkled like a Christmas tree. "Yeah," he whispered excitedly.

The magic wore off the moment Roger and Collins came back to the table. They obviously saw her writing down her address, for Roger smacked Mark playfully on his back.

"Someone SCORED!" he announced proudly, making Mark blush.

Maureen felt Collins' arms embracing her waist again. "Thank you."

She turned to him and frowned, but it was clear to both of them that she didn't really mean it. "You're VERY welcome. Now if you'll excuse me, boys, I have to go backstage and wrap up our equipment…"

A knock on the door shook Maureen out of her reverie. "Maureen, you coming? We're on in five!"

"Yeah, thanks Kelly, I'll be right there!" she called back.

She got up, straightened her dress, checked her makeup. You're gonna go through this, she promised herself as she made her way to the stage. Just… let go of the memories for tonight. Let go of him.

She was momentarily blinded by the spotlights before she got used to their presence. Then she realized how much she missed it. She hadn't performed in a while, not since that scandalous protest in Christmas Eve two years ago. It looked like forever.

She could see her friends cheering in one of the low tables, the closest to the stage, not in one of the high tables at the back. Collins was screaming and whistling like crazy. Mimi didn't look so well. She was pale and looked weak and fragile but she was still cheering and saying something in spanish once in a while. Maureen picked up only fragments of those. Roger had his arm around Mimi's shoulder and was on his third beer already…

The empty chair next to Roger suddenly caught her attention.

Her smile froze.

Mark wasn't there.

Everything became blurred as an unfamiliar feeling of hopelessness suddenly crept under her skin. She felt completely paralyzed, and held on to the mic for support. She caught Collins' reassuring smile from the corner of her eye, but suddenly it wasn't enough. She felt like she was suffocating.

The band started playing the notes of their first song, but Maureen couldn't remember the lyrics. She couldn't remember anything, couldn't think of anything, as her gaze wandered once again to that empty chair.

"Maureen, what's wrong?" hissed one of her backup singers. She couldn't even answer. The band kept playing. Feeling her distress, they made the introduction longer so she could pull herself together and keep up, but Maureen remained frozen.

Murmurs and whispers of discomfort passed among the audience in the crowded club as they all watched her, confused and somewhat embarrassed. Collins, Roger and Mimi exchanged worried looks as they watched her in great puzzlement. Maureen didn't even noitce them. All she sould see in front of her was Mark on that first night, the way he spilled their drinks, the way he giggled so dorkishly, the way he finally looked at her, the way she slowly started falling for him…

As much as she tried, the lyrics of that first song wouldn't come back to her. Other words were whirling mercilessly through her mind, creating their own melodies in her head, her heart… _You're miserable and I'm not… burn the past, burn us… she'll be twice the person you'll ever be… how does it feel, being… alone?…_

The backup singers took over and started singing her solo in perfect harmony. Maureen finally remembered the lyrics and started singing along with them, but her voice came out trembling and unsteady. She got the words all wrong. She couldn't stay concentrated, and the reason for it suddenly dawned on her.

She needed Mark to be there, and he wasn't.

She wanted him back.

To the amazement of her friends in the front row, the audience, her band, for the first time in her life, Maureen Johnson backed away and ran off the stage.

She was shaking. Badly. Cold sweat slowly gathered on her forehead. She couldn't decide if she was burning hot or freezing cold. She didn't know anything. Tears were streaming down her face but she didn't even feel their presence as she dropped to the floor, crawled to the corner of the dressing room and leaned against the wall, her knees pressed to her chest, and started rocking herself back and forth.

She loved him. She just did. She always had. How couldn't she realize that up until now? And what the hell was she going to do now that she had?

"Maureen?" She raised her head and suddenly Collins was there. He gasped as he noticed her in the corner of the room but quickly pulled himself together and hurried to kneel beside her. "Jesus Christ, Maureen, are you okay?" he asked gently, touching her face.

"Collins, man, what's happening?" she could hear Roger's voice from the doorway.

She heard another gasp, and then a female voice asked, "Dios mio, is she all right?"

"I don't know guys, give me a second here, will you?" asked Collins with rising panic. "Maureen, sweetie? What's wrong?"

She wanted to tell him to bring Mark… that she needed him there… that she couldn't do that show without him… but couldn't speak. The room started spinning.

Collins wrapped his arms around her and turned over his shoulder. "Roger, go get a doctor, NOW!"

"What's wrong with her?" asked Mimi.

"I don't know, she's shaking and…"

"Is she on something?" asked Roger suddenly.

"You know she doesn't use this stuff, Roger," said Collins sternly. Then his voice softened again as he touched her face. "Maureen, Reeney, talk to me, can you do that? Can you talk to me?"

She could barely open her eyes to look at him but she eventually did as she found her voice again. "No… no doctor…" she managed to mumble. She hardly recognized her own voice. It came out so hoarse and weak…

"What was that, sweetie?" asked Collins gently. It sounded as if his voice was coming from many miles away. She felt as if she was slowly slipping away. She couldn't help but wonder if that was that breakdown she feared from since that day started.

"No doctor," she repeated, "Just… take me home…"

"We have to get her to a hospital, Collins!" Roger sounded panicked as well now.

Maureen dropped her head on Collins' shoulder as everything around her went blank, but she could still hear them, speaking frantically to one another.

"Collins, look at her, she doesn't know what she's saying!" said Mimi.

"No, just call a cab, we'll take her home."

"You sure, man?"

"Yes. She's gonna be all right," he said it close to her ear. His voice was soft, comforting, as he brushed her hair away from her face. Maureen snuggled closer to Collins as he picked her up from the floor and carried her outside of the club through the back door, to where Roger had just stopped a cab.

The last thing she could remember before she drifted into frenzied slumber was what Mark had told her that morning. _You lost_.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N From Fae (from Erik and Fae): WOW! That's all I have to say. You guys are FUCKIN' awesome! (sorry pulled a Mark there). When PinkElphaba and I first started this story, we didn't think it would get this big of response. At least, I thought it wasn't. I mean, WOW. This story means a lot to us, to me personally because I'm so close to Mark's character, but could never find a way to capture him. And I never really understood Maureen until PinkElphaba really dug deep within her soul. I have to say this has been a learning experience for me, I mean collaborating with such a devoted author. This has been one hell of a roller coaster ride.**

**Thank you guys! We appreciate your reviews greatly! I'd like to dedicate the odd chapters (Mark's chapters) every person who's ever said, "Aw, poor Marky." I hope you see now that he's more than that. As the story closes (which won't be too soon, don't worry) I'd like to see a change in trend. Perhaps a, "Oh yeah, Marky!" ?**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Are you going to the club? To see Maureen's show?" asked Roger slipping on his jacket. Night had fallen, and Mark was observing Cindy's video camera. She had left it. It seemed there was a lot of forgetting in their family. And yet they can never forgive and forget family relations. He was fascinated with it. This was the type of camera he wanted to buy, but he knew he couldn't afford it.

"Are you kidding?" asked Mark. "I'd rather eat gefilte fish."

"I almost died because of you!" Roger laughed at his own reaction, probably remembering the flavor of that disgusting dish. He opened the door. "I'll save you a seat, okay?"

"I'm not going, Roger," said Mark plainly. After what happened at the club earlier that day, he didn't even want to face her. All he was trying to do was help and all she kept doing was yell at him. She couldn't even just let him do his job. She had to make things difficult, as always. He tried to figure out why their paths continued to cross, after they swore that they never wanted to see each other again. He was over her. After all this time, he was finally over her, and he was happy. Well, generally, he was happier than he was before. Actually, now that he thought of it, this day alone was not his day at all. It was the worst day of his life. Now he knew he wanted to stay home.

"I'll save a seat... just in case you change your mind," said Roger, and he left him. Mark put down the camera for a while. This day couldn't get any worse.

First he had this uncomfortable feeling when Michelle accused Roger of giving Mimi AIDS. Actually that made him kind of mad. How could she accuse him of such a thing? Then Collins called telling him he had to go to Maureen. Go to Maureen. That was bad enough. Then she gave him a hard time while he was there... then if that wasn't bad enough, his parents showed up in his apartment! And then Michelle unvieled a new face and sided with them! It didn't even end well... He was so frustrated and confused that he was starting to get a headache. He decided that he was not going to go to Maureen's show and add on to the worst day of his life.

A ringing sounded in his ear. Headache, headache, headache, thought Mark painfully. Then he realized that it was the phone ringing. Gah, thought Mark. He didn't feel like screening, so he picked it up.

"Hello?" asked Mark.

"Mark? You picked up the phone? Gee, you've been doing that lately. Did someone lift your answering machine?"

"Hi Collins..." he said dryly. Great, what does he want?

"Hello, sweetie pie. I need a favor."

"Oh no..." he breathed. He wouldn't dare ask him to go to Purple Sky.

"I need you to come down here to Purple Sky."

Why, why, why? "Collins, it was bad enough you asked me down there to help Maureen. I am not going to go down there again and support the woman who almost killed me with a chair."

"Killed, or tried to end your suffering?"

"No philosophical nonsense, Collins."

"Philosophy is not nonsense. It makes some sense. It's business, Mark."

"Business? How about you stay out of mine? Stop getting us back together! I'm on to your game, Tom Collins."

"You have the most atrocious segways Mark. What if her equipment breaks down in the middle of her performance? This is her first gig in a long time, have a heart. And it's my favorite club. I don't want it to burn down because of faulty wiring. Besides, they'll be hunting you down when they found out who screwed around with it."

"You asked me to fix it! Maureen made it worse!"

"That's not the way I saw it..."

"You suck Collins."

"But...?"

Mark sighed. He couldn't say no to the man who's done so much for him. "But I'll go. But only for her performance. Then I'm leaving. No drinks. No hellos."

"Fine, fine, no drinks, no hellos. Be here as soon as you can. The show starts in forty-five minutes," said Collins. "Take a cab."

"A cab?" whined Mark, "Roger didn't-" but before he could finish his complaint, a dial tone was heard on the other end. Roger didn't have to take a cab! He didn't think so anyway. Mark looked at the clock. Whoa. I must have been daydreaming a bit, thought Mark. It had been a while since Roger left. He didn't think he should change, but just go. He grabbed his coat, along with Cindy's camera. Might as well film something since there was nothing else better to do at that club. Plus, he hoped he hadn't lost his touch. A great time had passed since he held a video camera. He really missed it.

Riding in the cab, Mark got a chance to think about some things. Thankfully, they weren't of Michelle, or Maureen, or his parents. They were about his work. Something that he couldn't think about for a while because of all the things that were happening. He had gotten the Johansen's photo done right away, and it turned out glorious. The lighting was perfect; they were like an ideal family. He sent it over personally, and they couldn't stop grinning. That made him really happy. The intricacy of actually developing the photo, and seeing his finished product really gave him some pride because it was something he was good at. The faces of his clients boosted up his ego even more. They hooked it onto the wall right away, and Mark grinned for the rest of the day. He was so proud of himself. If only Michelle could be happy for him with his type of work. Maureen had always supported him through his career. If it was a career... Maureen... Michelle... oh no, Mark thought, here we go again. He told himself he wasn't going to think about them. Aw, everything was going so well, too... until...

He stepped out of the cab, and paid the fare. There went flowers and candy for Michelle's next date. He approached the club which glittered the letters Purple Sky. He sighed. He remembered that place. Why didn't I see it earlier? he asked himself, why didn't I remember it before? It was all so clear now. This was the place where he and Maureen first met. He sighed again, regretting every step that got him deeper into the club. The place was packed, the smell of alcohol stirring in the air, loud music blasting through the speakers. Well, at least the speakers were fine. Collins ran to him. Boy, he works fast, thought Mark.

"Glad you're here! Why don't you take a seat-"

"Collins, no. Remember, no hellos, no nothing," reminded Mark. "And don't tell Roger I'm here. Not a word."

Collins stared at him, then let out an exhale. "Okay. Well Maureen should be on after the next band. They've got a few songs."

"Alright. I'll just be in the back." Collins nodded and left, looking back at him with hopeful eyes. But Mark tried all he can to shut him out. He moved towards the back, behind all the tables, hiding in the dark corners of the club. He hid within the shadows that draped over like a curtain. At least if no one could see him, then he wouldn't have to mingle around, or speak up. I'm just the engineer, he kept telling himself.

A pressing thought entered his mind though. He tried to whisk it away, but couldn't. He just couldn't help thinking about this club...

The first place they met. He tried, but it's kept replaying in his mind. The first time they went out together...

They were walking down the street. Maureen looked beautiful. Mark couldn't help but goggle the first few minutes when she had opened the door from her place, and revealed herself. She was gorgeous. She was wearing a short black skirt that showed off her long, slender legs, a jeans jacket wrapped around a black tanktop. He hoped that she didn't notice him drooling all over her high heels. Knock out.

He pushed his hands into his coat pockets. Oh why would a girl like that go out with a guy like me, he thought desperately. Was someone up there trying to tease him, tempt him, humiliate him? He began to look down. He couldn't help but feel like a complete dork standing beside a beauty like her.

"I hope you don't mind walking. It's not far," he said trying to make an excuse. He was planning to save his money for the restaurant they were going to. He already had to nag Roger for an extra twenty, which he refused to give, but gave it to him in the end.

She smiled. Mark's heart melted. "No that's okay, I love walking. And it's beautiful weather out tonight." Suddenly she snaked her hand along Mark's arm, and into his pocket, flashing an apologetic smile. "You don't mind, do you? My hands are freezing."

Oh God, oh God, oh God, she's touching my hand! He tried not to squeal. He pulled away a bit at first by her soft touch. He resisted holding her hand. "No I don't mind," he managed to squeak out. "You look very pretty, by the way." He giggled foolishly, and almost slapped himself for doing so.

She smiled. "Thanks. So... where are we going?"

"The Italian's Secret, I hope you're up for pasta and such." He just realized that he never asked her if she liked Italian. What if she hated it? He loved Italian, but he didn't even ask her... damnit! He tried to recover himself. "If... if not we can go somewhere else. We don't have to go there."

She stopped in her footsteps, and looked at him curiously, seriously. "Am I making you nervous?"

Nervous? I'm a wreck! He shook his head violently. "No, no, I just thought if you didn't like Italian..." he stopped. He was babbling. Stop yourself, Cohen, he scolded. She suddenly pulled her hand out of his pocket and felt her gentle fingers touch his lips.

"I love Italian. Don't you worry about it. But... how about we go somewhere else?"

He knew it! She was just trying to be nice! "Mexican?"

She laughed, and shook her head. "How about your place?"

Uh-oh... so soon? "Um, well we don't have anything to eat..." He looked around nervously.

"That's okay, I'm not very hungry anyway," she said as her lips curled sexily. Mark gulped, and hesitated. She seemed to have noticed. "Hey, we don't have to go there if you don't want to, it's just... I thought we could spend more time alone together... to, umm... get to know each other."

If he was wearing rubber pants, he would have peed in them. But he wasn't wearing any, so he tried to be brave. "If... if you'd like. I mean if you really want to..." He looks at her inquisitively. He was so bashful, he couldn't help it. "Do you really want to?"

She nodded slowly. She moved toward him. "The question is Mark..." She was so close that he could smell her fragrance. "...do YOU want to?"

His reaction was sort of blurry. He could have been doing one of three things. He could have been drowning in her scent and beauty, moments away from fainting. His mouth could have been wide open as a fly casually flies in and out without the slightest notice. Or he could have been blethering like a big bafoon. Or all of the above.

"Umm…" a frog caught in his throat. Oh yeah, great time for an amphibian to jump inside his pharynx. "Su-sure... I mean, if you want to." DORK, you already said that! Oh man, he tried not to quiver in her presence. God, if I'm not already in love with her... And if matters weren't bad, or good, enough, she pressed her body against his, and he could feel the thin layer that separated their lips. Don't kiss her, don't kiss her, stay as far back as you can... Madness...

"I do," she replied softly. Mark nodded, and she slowly pulled away.

"Oh-oh-okay," he stuttered, as they continued walking. "We could go to my place." It wasn't too far from where they were.

"Okay," she said. "So how long have you been filming?" Oh thank goodness. A calm conversation.

"For a bit," he said and it suddenly dawned to him. He had bought a disposable camera before he picked her up. He took it out from his pocket, wound it up, and brought it to her face before she could react. "Smile!" Flash.

"Whoa!" The light blinded her for a minute, and she stepped back. She laughed. "Hey, that's not fair, I wasn't ready!"

"Sorry. I hate it when people pose unless I tell them what to do. Otherwise, I can't capture them naturally, the way I want. You'll turn out beautiful."

She smiled, flattered it seemed, and he was happy to make her smile. She moved back a bit. "Okay, do your thing."

He steadied the camera, trying to get the angle he wanted. But something didn't feel right to him. She wasn't natural enough. She was beautiful, but still... her knowing that the flash was coming didn't feel right. He peered behind the camera, then looked up to the sky. "Wow... look at that." Please let this work. He pointed to the sky where the moon glowed.

She glanced up but before he could take the picture she dismissed it and said, "So are you going to tell me what to do or are you just gonna take pictures of the moon? Because it'll still be there tomorrow, honey, but you don't know if I will."

Mark tried not to frown. Okay, that didn't work. It looked like it was going to be a wonderful shot for a split second. Ah well. He grinned and rolled his eyes. "Thank you for ruining the mood. I was going to take a picture of you looking up at the moon, then tell you how the light reflected your eyes... but too late now." He laughed a bit then put the camera away. She was so... spirited.

She laughed. "Sorry. I just thought... I don't know what I thought..."

"No it's all right," said Mark quickly. "I'll never forget this day. You're... unforgettable."

"So I was told." She smiled. "So tell me something about yourself."

I'm a nerd, he thought frowning. He wasn't very interesting. But he could listen to her all day long. She must lead a great life. "Er... well I'm Jewish, and I love to film..." He paused. Was that it? God, what a life. "That's not much, isn't it? Gee, I'm pathetic."

"No, you just need to work on your self esteem a little." She inched a bit closer. "Why aren't you in college or something?"

"I finished college. But decided that this is what I needed to do. Live out here." They reached his apartment building, and he opened the door for her. "After you."

"Thanks." They walked into the building and as they walked up the stairs, she asked what he majored in while he was in college. Was she really interested, or just trying to fill the air with words?

"Filming." He smiled. "Surprise, surprise. My dad hated it, but I had to do it. And I excelled." He was proud of himself for that. She laughed.

"I've never thought of you as the rebellious kind. I wanted to major in music but my parents hated it. I started college actually. I took English Literature, but I dropped it couple of months ago and moved here."

He smiled, admiring her. They approached the door, and Mark unlocked it. He still had that cockamamy smile on as he opened the door. Then it quickly disappeared as he found Roger, April, Collins, Alex, and Gina playing cards.

"Hey guys..." Mark said slowly. "What are you doing?"

Roger looked at him a bit surprised. "Hey Mark, you're home early."

"We decided to come here. Roger I thought you said you were going out tonight, just in case. Oh everyone, this is Maureen." Everyone acknowledged her, but were too focused on their game to give her a proper hello. Mark rolled his eyes.

Suddenly Benny appeared from the hallway, looking like he was in a hurry. "See ya guys later! Roger, don't drink more than you can swallow. And pretend that made sense." He walked toward Mark, then stopped in from of Maureen. His eyes trailed from her legs to her face. "Well, well... who's this?"

"Where are you going?" asked Mark.

"I've got a date with Janet Derricks," he answered proudly.

"Then go on your date, and leave me with mine!" said Mark. Benny grinned at him and stepped outside.

"Don't worry Mark, I wouldn't want to embarrass you," said Benny smiling. He leaned toward Maureen before leaving. "He stopped wetting the bed a week ago." Mark slammed the door on his face. He turned back to Roger, and gave him a curious look.

"Don't look at me that way," said Roger. "Well, I never figured you'd have someone home on the first night... uhh, we can leave...I guess.."

"Leave?" asked Alex. "No I wanna stay! I'm practically winning here Rog!"

"Well I'm tired of taking shots," said Collins, dropping his cards. "I can quit."

"Ohh...but I've got a great hand too!" whined Roger. "Come on Mark, join us."

"Join?" asked Mark. That didn't seem very romantic on a first date. He looked at Maureen sheepishly. "I don't know..."

"Why not? Come on, let's play," said Maureen tugging his arm a bit. She took off her jacket, and placed it on the couch. Mark's eyes widened. Without the jacket, her figure showed a bit more, her delicate curves lingering along her breasts down to her waistline and hips. She was like the David...only a woman...Davidina. "What are we playing?"

"Poker... for shots!" answered Roger, pulling out a bottle of alcohol, and drawing a chair for her.

"I don't drink," said Mark stubbornly. This was not the romantic evening he had planned. Gina gave him a look.

"Poor Marky. Come on, you have to play," said Gina, a long curly haired blonde, who was curvy and lumpy all over the place. Alex placed an arm around her.

"I've got a better idea," said Maureen huskily. "How about Poker... for clothes?"

Everyone looked up at her in surprise. April grinned slowly. "What, like, strip Poker?"

"I'm SOOOO in!" Alex said leaning forward, and throwing in his hards.

"There's an idea," said Roger, putting an arm around April, who nodded in agreement. "Collins, you in?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"Mark?" asked Roger. Mark answered hesitantly, "I don't know." STRIP Poker! Even for Phys. Ed he hated changing in the locker rooms. He was not built like an athlete. He was like the David's younger brother no one paid attention to. He was albino white, scraggy, and wimpy. Plus he wasn't good at Poker, so he knew how fast his clothes were to going to come off... faster than a horny jackrabbit on a date. Maureen slowly slipped her hand in his. Her soft skin was like lotion, and he couldn't help but melt.

"Come on, it's gonna be fun!" she said.

"Marky... Marky... Marky..." a low chant was brewing from the table. Roger and Collins started it, of course, the rest joining in, louder, pounding the table with their fists.

"Umm.. okay, sure." Mark gave in. Everyone cheered, and wooed, and Maureen smiled at him. They took their seats around the table, the arrangement being Roger, Maureen, Collins, Alex, Gina, Mark, and April.

"Collins, you're our dealer, I guess?" asked Maureen, as she settled herself.

"I've never dealt for strip Poker, but it shouldn't be any difference than Vegas, right?"

"Haha, just deal, Mr. Einstein," said Roger.

"All right," said Collins shuffling the cards. "Five-card Poker, nothing fancy, nothing queer... well, except for me... we play for clothing, that includes socks and shoes, not accessories or jewelry." He passed the cards, which flew to their player. "Good luck."

They began to play. Mark gripped his cards, and bit his lip. A nine, a seven, a queen, a three of hearts, and two of hearts. He threw away three cards, and got three back. Nothing. Damnit, maybe he wasn't doing this right. For goodness sake's, he never played Poker! Only once or twice with Roger and Collins, but not for anything with such high stakes. Everyone folded except for Roger and Maureen. He looked at her attentively, slyly. She looked concentrated, frozen. Roger laid three queens down, and waited for Maureen.

"Damn it," she cursed softly.

Roger grinned. "YES!" He looked at everyone excitedly. "Off with the clothing!" Maureen took off a shoe and set it in the middle of the table. Everyone did the same: April took off her pink cardigan, Gina took off one of her knee-highs, Mark did the same as Maureen, and Collins with his beanie. Alex pulled off his belt.

"NO accessories Alex!" warned Collins laughing.

"Oh fuck you Collins," said Alex, blushing a bit, and kicking off a shoe. April exchanged looks with Mark as if to say "huh doesn't he wish that," and Mark just smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I'm the designated dealer here. I don't make the rules, I just call them."

The game continued and Mark didn't have any luck at all. Fortunately for him he had a nice layer of clothing, so he prolonged the misery. Everyone seemed to be having fun though, and Maureen was having a good time. He, on the other hand kept feeling this humiliation creeping up, as every piece of clothing came off. There was a breeze coming in from an open window. Only time could tell how this would all end. Mark shivered. Please, let me win at least one hand. He didn't want to look like a total loser in front of Maureen. For this round, Gina and April folded. The rest called.

"I've got two pairs," said Alex. Roger sniggered, and murmured mockingly, "Two pairs..." Alex shot him a look and asked Mark. "Marky?"

Mark sighed, finally, a proper hand. "Three kings."

Roger sniggered again. "Three kings..."

Mark shot him an evil glare, "STOP that! It's YOUR call. What do you have anyway?"

"FLU-SHHHH." He laid five beautiful cards in diamonds on the table. He stretched his arms slickly, basking in his greatness.

Maureen looked up at him thoughtfully, "Hmm.. Nice try Roger." She laid her own cards down. Full House.

"Whoa!" said Alex choking on his beer. "She beat you Roger! She actually beat you!"

"No fucking way!" Roger looked aghasted. Horrified. Mark grinned.

"Strip it off Roger!" squealed Gina.

"But no one beats me!" said Roger. Mark shook his head, and looked at Maureen. She turned him on even more. Collins got ready for the next hand.

"WAIT, Collins you didn't call!" said Gina. Collins tried to excuse himself, but they wouldn't let him have it. Mark started to enjoy the environment. They were nearly in their pants now, everyone taking off their shirt, as Maureen sat there watchfully. They were still bugging Collins, though.

"I got a pair," he mumbled.

"What was that James?" asked Roger in a phony accent.

"A PAIR!" Everyone laughed. Mark straightened out his checkered yellow and blue long sleeved shirt which he wore under his dark blue t-shirt. He took the first shirt off. Roger glanced at him, then did a double take.

"NOT fair, you have TWO shirts on!" pointed out Roger.

"One article, I don't make the rules!" said Mark. They began another hand, trying not to giggle at Mark's circumstances. He was often the target of jokes, but he didn't mind too much. He was use to it, and was use to making fun of himself sometimes too.

"Mark, where have you been hiding her?" asked Alex, gesturing Maureen with his eyes.

Mark smiled. "I just met her yesterday," he answered.

Alex looked at Maureen in the eye. "Well, she's something else. I'd keep her, if I were you. And I know you... wimp..."

Mark picked up his new cards. "Alex, don't make me start talking about your past relationships..." Alex, he knew, screwed around a lot. He was surprised he kept Gina for so long. Gina raised an eyebrow at him. "Past relationships?"

"Mark, would you stop analyzing everything? Collins, deal me in two cards," said Roger bitterly. He must really hate losing because it seemed that he wanted revenge. However, things did not go his way. For the next few rounds, Maureen started to win everything. She was on fire, and brushed everyone away with her flame. It wasn't long until everyone was nude, and there was never ending laughter and teases about that. Everyone was clothes-free except for Mark and Maureen that is. Everyone anticipated for the outcome. Fortunately, Mark had extra clothing, but now he was down to his boxers. Maureen was in her bra and panties, and Mark tried not to look at her for too long. He did, however, steal a few glances along her neckline. Her garments were red wine-colored, soaked into the light fabric, and blending well with her smooth skin. Her bra pushed up her breasts beautifully, and for the longest time Mark couldn't help but stare hopelessly for a minute. It wasn't until Alex's piercing whistle sounded the air, and he snapped back into reality.

"THIS is it!" said Roger excitedly. Maureen looked up at Mark.

"Okay... you got it?" This was the game. It was getting close.

Mark looked up at Maureen. He grinned. He had been getting great hands. He put down four nines. "Four of a kind."

"Go Mark!" cheered Roger from a chair nearby. The rest had assembled themselves from the side, as an audience. They were all in towels, although Alex didn't mind being nude and free, but Gina insisted or he'd poke an eye out. They were all watching intensely. Even Collins had to step out. Mark took over as dealer.

"I kinda want Mark to lose," said Gina thoughtfully. "Come on Maureen!" Maureen called. She had four fives, and apologized to Gina. "DAMN. It's all right girl. You're still in the game."

Roger grinned widely. "So what say, Maureen? Gonna take off your undy or your bra? Either one is good!" He got a playful smack from April for that one. He pouted. "Sorry."

"I still have my other shoe," she said smiling sneakily. She looked at Mark devilishly. "I kept it on for just this type of occasion."

"WHAT?" exclaimed Roger. "This is an outrage! Collins!"

But Collins didn't have any of it, "What? It's perfectly legit."

"Thank you," said Maureen sweetly. "Last round. Ready?"

Mark paused and looked at her. She had a curl upon her lips that drove him mad, and a gleam in between her eyes that felt like she was undressing him... although he wouldn't know why she would. "Ready."

"Go for it then." Mark looked at her for a second, then realized that he was suppose to deal. He passed her five cards, and took up five cards himself. He picked it up slowly. Jack, Jack, Jack, a ten, and a four. Three Jacks. THREE JACKS. YES. He peered over at Maureen.

"How many?" asked Mark. She looked up at him, in deep assiduity.

"Two," she answered softly. Mark dealt her two cards, and dealt two for himself. He looked at them. A two. No help... and a Jack. Four Jacks. FOUR JACKS. PLEASE let me win this one! Mark tried not to grin. She couldn't have possibly have a better hand than him. Four Jacks. Okay, maybe somone does like him up there. He pursed his lips, restraining himself from showing any form of amusement. He narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't help but stare at Maureen. He was going to win.

"Mark's got something good. He has that stupid look on his face," said Roger.

"I think he's trying to make a Poker face," said Gina.

Mark threw them a look, but tried not to laugh. "Do you guys MIND?"

"I bet he'll totally win this one," said Alex elated. Mark kept switching his cards playfully. Four Jacks.

"Well? Tell us if they're right," said Maureen temptingly.

"Yeah TELL US," demanded Roger.

"Come on Marky!" squeaked April.

"SHHHH," said Collins. He was leaning toward Mark, trying to peek at his cards, but Mark wouldn't let him. They were wise enough to stay as far as they could, but their curiousity was unbearable. They were dying to know who the winner would be. If Mark won... oh, he didn't even want to hope for it. But he wanted it badly.

"WAIT." Roger interrupted his train of hope.

"Roger, shut UP!" said Collins.

"WHAT?" asked Maureen a bit agitated.

"Yeah Roger, come on!" said April pulling his arm back.

"No, I've got an idea!" he said, standing. He held his towel at his waist.

"Oh you and your brilliant ideas!" spat Gina.

"No really, can I just make a suggestion?" he asked pleadingly.

Alex groaned. "Let's hear it."

"Make it quick," said Maureen.

"All right..." Roger beamed. What did he have in store? "Since this is the last hand... which means winner takes it all... OFF, that is... let's make it interesting..."

Collins moaned. "Get to the point, Sherlock."

"Winner takes off the loser's underwear," he said clear as day.

There was a slight bit of silence as Mark's eyes bulged, and gawked at Roger. Was he KIDDING him?

"THAT'S a great idea!" cried Gina.

"What?" asked Mark in complete shock.

"OOOHHH," said Alex, grinning ear to ear. "Definitely!" Mark slumped down. Wait a minute... he had a great hand. This could easily be turned into his advantage. He thought taking off Maureen's garments could turn out really sexy.

"You're not scared are you Mark?" Maureen asked smiling. "I'll be gentle, promise."

He looked around at everyone, who were nodding their head vigorously. He then returned the smile. "I'm not scared... and I promise... that I'LL be gentle." Maureen raised an eyebrow.

"WHOA!" cheered Roger. Everyone was laughing. The anticipation was killing them.

"Okay. Moment of truth," stated Maureen.

"Ladies first," said Mark.

"If you insist." With a blank expression on her face she laid her cards on the table. Mark's jaw would have nearly fell to the floor if he didn't catch himself on time. Four of a kind. QUEENS. How on earth did she get that! There was NO way! "So?"

He continued to stare in terror, in stupor, in disbelief. I was so close, he thought deserately. He drew back in embarrassment. "Best two out of three?"

Instantly, there were a boom of cheers and utters of "YEAAAHH BABYY!". It almost hit the ceiling off, and shook the room. Alex and Roger couldn't stop stomping with laughter. Gina let out a loud whistle. He knew that they've all been waiting for a day for him to strip it all off. What could have been better entertainment for them? Maureen laughed along with them, as Mark threw down his cards.

"Oh no, honey, no WAY. I won, haven't I?"

"TAKE it off Marky!" said Roger.

"Wait, wait! I thought I was going to take it off?" Maureen put on a pout and looked at him with innocent puppy dog eyes. Roger slapped his forehead.

"RIGHT!" he exclaimed. "Do your thing Maureen!"

"Umm." Mark wanted to protest. It was embarrassing enough that he was going to be naked in front of everyone. But having Maureen do the honors? What if she... causes even more...? ARG! Everyone started to soften their voices, as Collins shushed them all.

A nervous feeling crept up Mark's neck as he stood there in the middle of the room with nothing but his boxers on. Everyone was watching intently as Maureen grinned mischievously. Gradually she came up to him, nothing but her scarlet brassiere, and panty. She placed her soft, cold hands on his waist. He shivered a bit as she slid her palms up and down his bare sides. She touched his boxers. Slowly, she started slipping them off. Mark couldn't help but blush. A squeal from April was heard behind Roger. Carefully, the article of clothing inched down his skin, becoming barer. He felt a whisp of cold air as she pulled them down... then...

"You know," she said softly, "this would be better if we did it alone." He was a bit confused, but didn't say anything. She gently took his hand and lead him down the hall, moving away from the protests of Roger and Alex.

"Thanks Maureen," he said blushing madly, as they strolled into the dark hallway.

She smiled. "No problem. You want to finish this in your bedroom though? It's kinda cold in here..."

He was so embarassed. He didn't think she would actually go through with it. For a moment, he thought that she would give him mercy, and save the ridicule. But he tried not to let her see it. "Yeah, sure."

They entered the bedroom, which was a bit dark. The moonlight shone from the window, and gave little light. But it did stream nicely on Maureen's eyes.

"So umm…" she laughed sort of nervously. "Are you sure about this? I mean, first date and all?" Of course I'm not sure! I'm bloody petrified!

"Well, if you don't want to..." As quickly as he could he headed for the door. She hurried after him and grabbed his hand. He turned around, feeling her soft touch weaken him, and he faced her. She pushed him gently against the door, running a hand down his chest. She traced her fingers up and down his stomach, and began to kiss him lightly on the neck. He felt so nervous. He's never done anything like this, or even thought about doing it on a first date.

"Maureen, I-" A knock. Saved.

"Are you naked yet?" Roger…

"Get away from that door, you wannabe rocker!" Collins' voice was heard on the other side. The noise ceased and Mark sighed. He flushed as he looked at her, that sexy sneer upon her face. "Sorry."

Maureen smiled weakly. "It's okay. Hey, nothing will happen if you don't want it to, okay? I won't take these off-" she touched his boxers slightly. "-unless you want me to. I promise. We can go put some clothes on and go out there as if nothing happened. It's up to you."

Although she promised, she had a conniving look in her eyes. He didn't know if he could believe her. He wondered if he wanted to do it. What was the harm? A LOT OF THINGS, he answered himself silently. Another annoying knock came at the door.

"Heard that Maureen, nice try!" Roger said from the other side. "We want some proof when you two get out from there!"

"DAVIS I'm going to launch you out the window, if you don't get away from that door!" There was struggling on the other side, and then silence. Mark shuddered.

"P-proof?" His lips quivered. "Look... you're the winner. You won fair and sqaure... it's up to you."

"If it's up to me, I say we stay here," she whispered seductively. "...and see what happens." She rose her voice slightly. "You better stay away from that door, Roger!"

His heart fluttered, and a nervous feeling ran up his spine. He listened, but there was no answer. "I think they killed him," he said. She laughed softly, and continud spreading light kisses on his neck. They tickled a bit, but he liked it. He placed his hand on her back, and he wanted to pull her closer for more... more...

"Tell me when to stop and I will," she whispered in between. She slowly raised her eyes to his. She looked at him earnestly. He nodded and slowly slid his hands to her waist, and she trailed her kissed on his chest, and up his collarbone. He didn't want to protest. He felt like puddy in her hands. He pulled her slightly closer, but not too close to let her know that he yearned for more. Her hands crept along his chest then he felt her loving hand run through his hair. She rubbed his face gently, smiling at him. She suddenly frowned. What was wrong? She took off his glasses and placed it on the nightstand. Uh-oh... Mark bit his lip, but she wouldn't let him go. He wanted to, but... he was so unsure. She smiled a bit, and gently wrapped her arms around his neck. She brought his head down a bit so his lips would meet hers halfway. She kissed him slowly, her lips caressing his, and Mark immediately kissed back. He liked the way that felt. He savored her sweet taste, each kiss being more urgent by the second.

He brought her waist closer to his body, feeling her heat, her warmth. He trailed a finger down her spine, and she arched up slightly by his touch. That caused her to press her body against his even more, her soft skin slowly moving up and down against his body. For a minute, Mark lost all thought. He slowly pulled away.

"Aren't we suppose to be doing something?" he asked softly.

She smiled. "Well, you can start by locking that door in case Roger decides to barge in... then we can move this party into a more comfortable place, like your bed for instance..." her whisper was so seductive. Mark swallowed. "...and then we can take these off..." She tugged at his boxers, and Mark felt an unbelievable sensation throughout his body. She pushed for more as she pressed her lips against his again, slowly tugging down...

"God, is she all right?" Mark snapped his head up. The music began to fill the air again, and Mark realized that he had dreamt off again. He looked at the stage. Maureen was standing onstage, the music playing, but she didn't do anything. No words came out. Mark turned on the video camera, pointing it towards Maureen. He couldn't help but preserve a last piece of her after that daydream he had. But she didn't do anything. She tried to sing, but the words kept coming out muffled, inaudible. She had a look of fright in her eyes. He steadied the camera. What was happening?

Then she did it. She ran offstage.

Mark wanted to go after her. In all the time he'd known her, she never ran away from a performance. Nothing ever frightened her enough to run away. But he held himself back. This was none of his business. And if he wanted to live life happily, he was just going to have to get use to it. He couldn't be her rescuer anymore. Sadly, but with some dignity, he left the club. Goodbye, love.

**

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**Note from Fae (Mark): This chapter is dedicated to every girl who's longed to be in Maureen's shoes... or undergarments... **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N from PinkElphaba: well, first I have to say that I'm definitely one of those girls who long to be in Maureen's undergarments, but since technically I AM Maureen, I consider myself luckier than others…**

**Nothing from what I'll say next will be original after Fae's A/N from our previous update but I'll say it anyway, so- you guys are UNBELIEVABLE! Thank you so much for your reviews, compliments, support and attention, it really means a lot to both of us. And personally, I'm happy with each "poor Maureen" review, because it means that this story reached another goal (other than breaking the "poor marky" pattern), and we succeeded in showing that the drama queen actually has a heart. Fae said she was so close to Mark's character, and I have to say that although Maureen's character is so different than my own (I'm much more Mark-ish I'm afraid…), she became such an insaparable part of me- hell, I BECAME Maureen Johnson! LOL**

**I can only speak for myself and say- REVIEWS ROCK MY WORLD so keep it up!**

**To our readers who are as Jewish as Mark and myself, have a happy new year and enjoy this holiday season. To all of you, Jewish or not, thank you again and enjoy the following chapter!**

**Chapter Eighteen**

It was late afternoon when Maureen finally woke up the next day. Yesterday night's events were blurred in her memory, but it all started coming back to her as she lied in bed and stared at the ceiling. She backed away… Mark wasn't there… she wanted him back… God, how did I even let myself get there, she wondered miserably as she dragged herself out of bed. Her head was throbbing like after a really bad hangover, which was another unwelcoming thought, because it instantly brought back memories from that night nearly two months ago. The heavy feeling in the middle of her chest was a painful reminder of her still broken heart. She hated that feeling. She would have done anything to make it go away.

She tried to fix her messed up appearance in the bathroom but to no avail. She couldn't understand how it was possible that she was still tired, after sleeping all these hours… She quickly changed her Plinstons night-shirt into worn out jeans and a simple white tanktop and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Nothing left from last night's beautiful curls. Now it was as impossible as always.

She re-entered the bathroom to wash her face. In an attempt to avoid a face to face confrontation with her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she bent over and tried to stick her head under the streaming water, but failed in doing so. Repressing a sigh of defeat, she put some water between her hands and splashed it on her face. It felt good. Refreshing. Where did I put my face lotion, she wondered as she opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. She located the small bottle on the lower shelf and snatched it. Her gaze wandered among the familiar objects on the three tiny shelves. Rose scented body lotion, Strawberry body mist that used to make people turn their heads after her when she walked down the street, a bottle of aspirin and toothpaste, an ancient pack of condoms, forgotten on the upper shelf, a razor…

Her gaze fixated on that last object. A razor. A pink razor, of all things. It couldn't be Collins', not only because of the color but also because Collins used what officially was the guest's bathroom down the hall, since it was closer to his room. It could have been Joanne's… or hers, but she didn't even remember buying something so girly. She picked it up gently and held it in one shaky hand. The blade sparkled in the white neon light of the bathroom and hurt her eyelids. She accidently raised her head to face the mirror, but it was not her own reflection that stared back at her from the inside, but April's.

Her heartbeat quickened its pace as she instantly removed her gaze from the mirror. Air. She needed air. But she couldn't bring herself to leave the bathroom. As always, the thought of dead April brought the familiar sense of shortness of breath. She brought herself slowly to the floor until she was leaning against the wall, and tried to take long, even breaths. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal and Maureen opened her eyes, breathing heavily and sweating.

She hated that the thoughts of April did that to her. She felt haunted by the memories of the past, and hated being powerless against their massive effect. She wondered if it would ever stop.

She looked thoughtfully at the razor she still held, and millions of questions were whirling through her mind. Was it very painful? It must have been. But then again April was one of those girls who was afraid of everything. She couldn't even cope with the smallest kind of pain. So how could she do that?

That seemed to be the million dollar question. How could she do that?

If someone as fearful as April was courageous enough to slit her wrists, did it mean that Maureen could, too?

She looked at her left wrist thoughtfully, then back at the razor in her right hand. How do they do it in the movies, she asked herself as she moved the razor closer to the vain, royal blue against the pale skin of her inner arm. How did April do it? What was she thinking the second the sharp blade first made contact with her skin? Did she change her mind when the first pain started? Did she cry for help? Didn't she know what consequences that act would cause? Didn't she even think of her parent? Her friends? Roger?

Damnit, how could she do that?

Maureen loosened her tight grip on the pink razor, and it fell to the bathroom's floor. She closed her eyes to clear her mind off the dangerous thoughts she had just engaged herself in. She blamed it on her shaky nerves. Yet, she knew for sure that she could never bring herself to do such a thing as commiting suicide. She was well familiar with the consequences. She saw what happened to all of them after April died. She could never make them go through it all over again. Other than that, she had so much more she wanted to do in her life… so many dreams she still had to come true… like fame, and family, and true love…

She padded out of her bathroom and into the living-room, where she knew she would find Collins. Meeting Collins meant to confront him, and she really wanted to avoid that but thought better of it. She'd better not postpone it but rather get it over with.

She remembered bits and pieces from what happened after she ran offstage. She remembered hearing Collins, Roger and Mimi in her dressing room; they talked but she couldn't remember what about. Then they took her home, and Collins helped her out of her dress and gave her two pills of Advil. He rocked her in his arms, lulling her to sleep as if she was a baby, whispering comforting words in her ear. Soon the pills' effect was taking over and her exhaustion wore her out, and she was fast asleep, leaning against Collins' chest. She woke up several times during the night, and once in the morning, to find Collins sleeping on a chair near her bed. His presence made her feel safe, and she drifted back to slumber without saying anything to him.

And now she had to face him, sober and wide awake.

He didn't even notice her when she walked into the living-room, barefoot. He was sitting on the couch, hunched over a newspaper, chewing at his pen thoughtfully. Maureen guessed he was trying to solve the Times' crossword puzzle, from last Sunday's paper. That was something she remembered from the old times, when they all still lived together in the loft. When Collins was occupied with the damn crossword each Sunday morning, nothing could distract him, not even a bunch of wild elephants running all over the place. Mark was easier to distract, she thought with a small smile. Whenever he tried to help Collins to solve the crossword she would come to sit in his lap, kissing his neck, tickling him… and she always got him distracted.

She coughed gently to draw Collins' attention without startling him. As he turned to face her, his concentrated expression slowly transformed into a much more worried one as he observed her. He looked somewhat relieved by what he had seen.

"Good morning," said Maureen quietly. She felt silly, saying it at such late hour, but couldn't think of anything better to say.

"It's practically evening among us normal people," said Collins. At least he didn't look angry, thought Maureen with great relief as she dropped herself on the couch next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she said shortly but meant it with all her heart. She glanced at Collins, who's face remained blank. This is not good, she thought, somewhat panicked all of a sudden. Maybe he IS angry. She didn't think she had ever seen Collins angry. She hated to think she would be the one who'd make him lose his usually calm appearance. "I totally blew it, huh?"

Collins' features softened. "No, not totally. You made a good impression on Anthony when you first met, I'm sure he'll give you a second chance, even after… what happened."

"No, I mean… I didn't mean the show."

"What is it, then?"

She glanced at him carefully. "You. I really messed up. Are you mad?"

Collins hesitated for just a second before he looked at her seriously. "I'll be mad only if you won't tell me what the hell is going on." No accusation, just pure concern. It made Maureen feel even worse, knowing that she let him down, made him so worried… He kept on talking, looking at her intently. "I'm not buying the stage fright excuse, Maureen, not from someone like you who thrives on the spotlight. And I hope to God it wasn't a drug affect but I think I know you better than that."

Maureen shook her head. "I don't touch that stuff. It wasn't that."

"Thank God. But be quiet, I'm not finished," he cut her off sternly. "You have been acting weird for the entire month. At first I told myself that everything was okay, that weird in your case is perfectly normal, but then it went even beyond your usual weirdness, starting with that day you locked yourself in your bedroom to CRY!" Maureen wanted desperately to say something, explain, protest, but he raised his hand to quiet her. "Now, I know you long enough to know when something is bothering you, Reeney, but I saw you didn't want to talk about it so I let it go, I said nothing, but not after last night. That breakdown of yours scared the shit out of me."

"I know," whispered Maureen, "It scared the shit out of me too."

"So we're gonna talk about it all now, whether you like it or not."

Maureen nodded. "Can I get myself a cup of coffee before we do?"

"Yeah," said Collins, softening a little, as he moved to the kitchen. "And you better eat something too, you don't look too hot."

"I don't feel too hot either," she answered, watching him from the couch. He made them both coffee and quickly returned to sit beside her, carrying two mugs and a small plate of toasts, peanut butter and strawberry jam for her.

Maureen didn't need further persuading. She took a small bite of the toast and started telling him everything. Collins' face remained expressionless as he listened intently to her story. She talked for nearly twenty uninterrupted minutes, telling him about the day she and Mimi bumped into Joanne and her new lover in the costume shop, the same day in which she later saw Mark kissing Michelle on the hallway. She told him about the bitter-sweet memories Purple Sky still held for her and her hesitation to do that gig in the first place because of that. And finally, she told him about the previous day's events, starting with the nasty fight she and Mark had when he came to fix her equipment, and ending with her breakdown.

"…So I got on that stage and all I could think about was that night when we first met, and I just… froze. And then I didn't see him sitting with you guys and I kinda… I don't know…" she sipped her coffee and put the mug on the table as she continued, "I couldn't get him out of my mind and it was terrifying because I suddenly realized-"

"…That you still have feelings for him?" completed Collins gently.

Maureen slowly nodded and buried her head in her hands. "I'm pathetic," she mumbled desperately.

Collins touched her hands, moving them away from her face, making her facing him. "No, you're not. Just a little confused. Do you love him?"

"I miss him. I miss this feeling of being with him, being close to him. I think the first time I realized it was when you made me do this stupid flirting thing," she frowned.

Collins burst out laughing as he remembered that long ago party. "Poor Mark, that was hilarious! He didn't know what came onto you that night!"

"You said that flirting with him will tell me exactly how much I wanted him… well, as much as I hate to admit it, this was exactly what it did. At first I tried to convince myself otherwise, that I didn't want him, that I couldn't want him, but as time went by…" her voice trailed off. She couldn't transform her thoughts into words. Saying aloud that she wanted Mark back was much different than saying it to herself in her head. Hearing herself saying it was strange.

Collins looked at her seriously. "I'm glad I got you convinced by this flirting thing, Maureen, but right now I didn't ask if you wanted Mark, I didn't even ask if you missed him. Missing someone and loving someone are two completely different things. Do you think you're still in love with him?"

Maureen took her time thinking about Collins' question. She wasn't sure she had an answer. Yes, she needed Mark, yes, she wanted him back, yes, she was insanely jealous because he now had Michelle, but was that love? How could she tell if it was? She looked at Collins and replied carefully, "That's a scary thought."

He took her hand in his. "Yes, but is it a true one?" he asked gently. "Because if it is, you should tell him."

Maureen shook her head. "I can't."

"You have to!"

"I can't ruin his life again, Collins, I've done THAT too many times. I won't forgive myself if I ruin what he has now with…" she couldn't bring herself to say her name, but Michelle's perfect image was clear in her mind. So were Mark's words; _she'll be twice the person you'll ever be! She makes me happy!_ How could she argue with THAT? How could she even fight it? All she kept doing was making him miserable. She shook her head. Stop thinking about it!

Collins squeezed her hand gently. "The least you can do is try. Who knows what you're gonna find, hidden right there where no one even thought of looking. He might feel the same."

Maureen let out a skeptical snort. "There is no way he feels the same. I hurt him too many times, and we both know that Mark is not stupid. It's true, it took him forever to get over it but I'm sure he IS over it by now. He made it pretty clear yesterday morning that he did."

"Look, Maureen, you HAVE to tell him. It will be the biggest mistake of your life if you don't. Don't give up on that, how can you even think of doing it? Maureen Johnson never gives up!" his tone became more pleading and persistent as he looked at her. "He might be with Michelle right now and that's fine. You said it yourself, you hurt him a lot, he's trying to get over it, to move on. But just as Joanne was not the one for you, Michelle is not the one for him, I can promise you that. I don't see in his eyes that spark I used to see when he was with you. I told you that from the day I introduced you, remember? You were made for each other. You can't give it up."

Maureen shook her head in protest. "Collins, I dumped him, for A WOMAN, I made his life a living hell when we were together, I made him even more miserable when I left…"

"Exactly so," said Collins calmly, "This is why you should be the one to do the first step." He gave her his intent look again. "You have to do this, Maureen. You know you do." He glanced at his watch absentmindedly, then did a double take and jumped off the couch as he noticed the time. "Oh, damnit!"

"What?" she asked, startled.

"I was supposed to meet Mimi and Roger in Life half an hour ago!" He was already halfway to his bedroom, putting on his trench-coat. Maureen followed him there. "Wanna come with me?" he looked at her through the mirror as he fixed his dark blue beanie over his head.

Maureen hesitated and sat on his bed. "I don't know. After last night I think it will take a lot of time before I have the guts to show my face out of this apartment again."

Collins took her arm and pulled her back to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her. Maureen laid her head against his chest. "New York will be deprived a pretty face if you don't come out," he said softly. She smiled against the fabric of his coat.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you yesterday by the way. I know you were only trying to help. I was really hysterical and I took it on the wrong people."

"It's okay, sweetie, I know you didn't mean it. I'm sorry I called Mark for help. I didn't know how bad it was between you two, and everyone else I would have called was an expensive option."

"So we're cool?"

Collins smiled and kissed her cheek. "We're cool. Sure you don't wanna come along? It'll do you good, you need some fresh air."

"No, I'll just stay here and drown in my own misery and self pity."

Collins frowned. "Just remember where it had gotten you the last time."

That was what started the whole damn thing in the first place, she thought bitterly. She managed a small reassuring smile. "I know. I guess I'm just not used to being miserable, that's all."

"Everything's gonna be okay, don't you worry about it, I'm sure you'll work it out in no time. Join us later if you'll feel up to it, okay?"

"Okay," she returned his smile, but then remembered something and grimaced. "Is Mimi okay? She didn't look so well yesterday."

Her question seemed to take Collins by surprise. He thought of it for a moment but then said, "Yeah, she did look a bit weak, but I'm sure it's nothing. She's just stressed out because of her work. She did four double shifts last week to get off yesterday for your show…"

"Oh fuck…" sighed Maureen as she broke from their embrace. Was there anything else she could still mess up? Mark hated her, she made Collins panic, and Mimi worked like crazy the week before just to see her friend running offstage.

"Maureen, I didn't mean it to sound like it was your fault-"

"I still feel that it was though," she said bitterly.

"Listen to me. Stop it. I don't wanna hear it. You had a lousy month, what happened yesterday was a perfctly normal reaction to all this. Try to listen to your body, your mind, your heart, it tried to tell you that it couldn't take it anymore. What you're gonna do about it is up to you. The only thing that still bothers me is that you should have come to talk with me sooner."

"I'm sorry…" she whispered.

Collins touched her chin, making her face him. "Don't. It's okay. Everything's gonna be fine. Now I really gotta run," he snatched his wallat from the top of the dresser and shoved them into his coat pocket. "We'll wait for you, think about it, Reeney!"

Maureen stood in the hallway, somewhere between her bedroom and Collins'. She had no idea what she was going to do. She didn't feel like going back to sleep, she was wide awake now, after that conversation with Collins. Watching a movie on TV was not a good idea either, she was too distracted to follow any film at that point. Should she go to Life? She felt too humiliated to do that. The memory of her breakdown was still fresh and painful in her mind, she had to let it die away a little before she could face other people. She really wasn't ready for Roger's teasings and Mimi's inquiries. She wouldn't know what to say, anyway.

She walked back into her bedroom. The sun was nearly gone by now, hidden somewhere in the west behind the buildings and coloring the room in a soft orange light. Maureen opened the top drawer in her dresser. She took Mark's photo out of its hiding and looked at it thoughtfully for a long moment. Should she go there and tell him the truth? How could she? What would she say? What if he'd kick her out like she deserved?

Damnit, so many questions…

She sighed desperately as she dropped herself on her bed and closed her eyes. So many reasons for why NOT going… but what if it WAS the right thing to do? What if Collins was right and they were made for each other? What if Mark was her one all along? Could she risk living in solitude in her future just because she gave up on him in her present?

Her eyes snapped open as she brought herself into a sitting position. They were burning in determination now, without a single trace to the pain and misery they contained only seconds before. You are Maureen Johnson, she reminded herself, you never give up. She looked at the photo once more before she got up and put it back in her dresser. She needed to go there, she knew she did, but she didn't want to show up uninvited and risk bumping into Michelle. So she decided to call him first.

Looking for the wireless phone through the apartment brought her back into Collins' bedroom. Just as she stepped into the room a loud ringing sound pierced the heavy silence, making Maureen nearly jump up to the ceiling with a start.

"SHIT!" her heart was still racing when she finally realized that the ringing was coming from under a pile of clothes on Collins' bed. She shoved it aside snatched the reciever. "HELLO!" she breathed into it.

"Maureen?" asked a familiar female voice.

Maureen's eyebrows knotted together as she tried to identify the voice at the other end. "That's right, who is this?"

"You have been living away from home for too long if you cannot recognize your own mother."

"MOM?" asked Maureen incredulously as she dropped herself on Collins' bed. Exactly what I needed to add to my trouble supply, she thought bitterly.

"How are you, sweetheart?" It was asked casually, as if they were speaking on the phone daily. The truth was, that Maureen didn't speak with her parents for almost two years.

"Why are you calling here?" Maureen cut her off coldly.

"Well, your father and I are in New York for a convention. I thought it might be a good idea to meet you for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she replied shortly, her tone icy cold.

"Maureen, please, stop acting childish. We want to talk with you, work things out-"

Maureen couldn't believe her ears. Work things out? Oh please. "After nearly four years you want to work things out? It's a little late for that now, mom."

"Honey, why don't you just-"

"Mom, we went through this before, I'm happy with my life and my choices and I'm not changing my mind. That's it, that's final. Now I don't want to be rude or anything but I'll appreciate if you won't call here ever again."

"Maureen, don't walk away from us-"

"You taught me how," said Maureen before she hung up. She didn't even have a chance to digest what had just happened, when the phone rang again, startling her once more.

"I asked you not to call here again!" she steamed.

"Whoa, chill out Maureen, it's just me…"

She sighed, rolling her eyes at her mistake. "What do you want, Roger?" she asked coldly.

"I wanted to know if you knew where Collins is. He was supposed to meet us in Li-"

"He's on his way, he left couple of minutes ago."

"Oh." There was short silence before Roger added carefully, "Are you… okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," said Maureen shortly.

"Ummm… okay, so... thanks, talk to you later," he hung up quickly. Maureen dropped the reciever back on Collins' bed. She was so shaken by what had just happened, that she forgot why she even got to his bedroom. Then her gaze fell on that pile of clothes on his bed, and she smirked. And he dares saying that I'M making a mess. She could tease him endlessly about it later, she thought triumphantly. It made her feel a little better, a little like her old self again. Then she thought that while she was there she might borrow that cool new beanie he bought the week before. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach to the top shelf in his closet, where she knew he kept all his beanies. She located the one she wanted and reached out for it…

And her hand made contact with a solid object that was hidden behind it.

Her forehead cringed in confusion. "What the hell…" she muttered as she slowly removed the beanies and scarves aside and pulled the object out. She gasped as she realized what it was.

Mark's camera.

She instantly remembered what was she doing in Collins' bedroom. She was looking for the phone to call him… to make sure he'd be in the loft when she'd come to tell him that she…

Her confusion grew as she turned her gaze from the camera to the back of Collins' closet, where it was hidden. How the hell it got there? She remembered saying something nasty about it to Mark the day before, but she couldn't remember what it was. Damn, she didn't even know he lost it!

She touched the old camera slowly, gently, as if it would break if she'd use too much force. Poor Mark. Maureen knew how much his work meant to him. She assumed that losing his camera must have been really tough for him. It was more important to him than his family, as sad as it sounded. At least, Mark had never tried to contradict her when she once stated that. She couldn't understand how it got to Collins' closet of all places. Why would Collins keep it from Mark? He knew how important that camera was for Mark, they all did. When did it even get there?

And then, all of a sudden, she didn't even care how it got there, or why didn't Collins say anything. Now more than anything she knew what she had to do. That camera was her sign.

She had to go.

She ran back to her room, where she shoved her feet into old pink All-Star sneakers and put the camera carefully in her bag. She snatched the first jacket she saw on the rack near the front door. It was Collins' brown leather jacket and it was three or four times her size, but Maureen could care less as she locked the door and left her apartment hastily.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Mark busied himself all day, in hopes of getting his life back on track. Okay, he knew that wasn't happening any time soon, but he tried to forget as much as he could... forget as much about Collins and his stupid games, forget all about Maureen. He buried himself with film reels, old screenplays, obscure props, even searching through that box of clothing his sister had stacked away in the hallway closet. That actually made him feel a little better. The thing that made him laugh was old nighties and bras that she stashed away in there. She probably meant it as a joke, and she meant for him to find it. That was Cindy... at least the thought of her was able to block the rest of torturing ones.

And yet... gah, there was that little tiny monster in the back of his head, tormenting every reassuring thought that came into mind. There were no exits, no escape- he was going to live with this feeling forever, and it would be the death of him. Death. For some reason that seemed more and more tempting to ensue for each passing minute. Did he have anything else to look forward to? Well, he had Michelle, but things were turning out kind of ugly between them...

Mark had not talked with Michelle since yesterday. He was still a bit reluctant about seeing her again so soon. How could she possibly turn sides like that? He thought he knew her but obviously not well enough. Hopefully he would be able to overlook that part of her and maybe compromise with her. She was a reasonable girl. She just wanted the best for him, everyone did. Still, all his worries got him nowhere, and he drowned his sorrows by bringing out all his equipment, and sorting out the film he had. The last thing he could do was clean the versions of choppy films he had, although he so longed for his old camera.

Night fell immediately, and his stuff were scattered everywhere. A white projector stared blankly at him as he tried to figure out where everything belonged. He had done all he could, but now he couldn't figure out which scene, which reel, went with which. Roger had left a while ago with Mimi- something about going to the Life Café. Mark wasn't really paying attention, he was much too distracted with his work, but he told Roger that he would be fine.

He grabbed his sister's camera, and looked at it for a while. Hesitantly, he rewound the tape inside and watched last night's scene from the camera. Mark still couldn't figure out why she ran off stage so suddenly. It wasn't like her. Although the last thing he wanted to do was think about her, he couldn't help but try to piece the puzzle to the mystery 24 hours before. He hoped that she was all right at least. Roger didn't say much about it last night. In fact, oddly enough, he didn't say anything about it at all. Mark didn't tell him that he was there, and Roger didn't say five words about how the show went. It was weird... but then lately, there were times where he was very distant, and times where he was fine... He figured it had something to do with Mimi and Michelle. After that whole episode with Michelle accusing Mimi of not taking care of herself, Roger's viewpoint on Mark's "girlfriend" changed. He started to lower his eyes at him every time Mark would mention her. He figured much.

A rap came at the door. Mark grumbled softly, hating that he had to actually get up to get the door. Maybe if he stayed really quiet, they'd go away. But then... it could be Michelle... or Cindy... God, he hoped it was Cindy.

He opened the door, and Maureen stood on the other side. She looked different, a bit less flashy than usual. She had jeans on, a white tank top, and a brown leather jacket that made her look tiny, and so he guessed it was Collins'. Her hair was tied hastily, and she had no make-up. Instead, there were dark circles around her eyes, and she looked quite tired. It was strange seeing her there... like that...

"Maureen?" he questioned.

She had the tiniest smile. "Hi Mark," she said weakly.

A photoflash of yesterday's performance came in mind. "Uhh, can I help you, or something?"

"Can I come in?"

This took Mark by surprise. He didn't think that she would act so inviting after their last encounter. He thought she never wanted to see him again. A thought of her chasing him with a chair ran through his mind. What could she possibly want that could make his life worst? Did she do this on purpose?

"I guess," he said, letting her in. He felt confused and a bit uncomfortable, fearing of what would take place next. "Was there something you needed or...?"

"Yeah, I..." she hesitated as her voice stopped in mid-sentence. "Well... first I think I owe you an apology."

"An... apology? Are you okay?" Mark's jaw almost dropped. He couldn't believe Maureen Johnson would actually come to his apartment willingly to apologize. Willingly? Wait a minute... "Did... did Collins send you here?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you always assume that Collins sent me?" she asked, her tone desperate rather that angry. She sighed. "No, he didn't send me here, Mark, I came on my own decision."

"Oh... oh." He didn't know what to say. He was indecisive of whether he should accept her apology or not. It wasn't his fault at all that he was trying to help her out, and all he wanted was to try to at least tolerate her existence. Still, he was unsure. She had hurt him so much in the past, with their relationship. Perhaps she was apologizing for hurting him those times too. Was it good enough to be true? "Why?"

"If you just let me say it, I will."

"Then say it." He listened mindfully.

"About yesterday when you came over to fix my equipment. I was in a mood to fight, I took it on you, it was wrong... I'm sorry."

He waited for a minute. He frowned, disappointed. "Okay... is that all?"

She narrowed her eyes at him slowly. She then took out something out of her bag, and handed it to him. His camera. His camera? Great God Almighty! His camera!

"You... had it the whole time?" he asked, grabbing it possessively. She HAD it the whole time! Why would she keep his camera from him? Did she hate him that much? "Were you waiting for the opportune moment to give it to me, or what?"

She looked offended. "What? Do you really think I'd do that?"

You'd do anything to get what you want! He raised an eyebrow. "You threatened to throw a chair at me."

"I said I was sorry Mark," she said.

"Yeah I heard," he said hugging his camera a bit. "But I've heard it so many times." He sighed hopelessly, and headed for his equipment where he could set up his camera immediately. At least now he'll know what he taped last. "I have a lot of work Maureen... so if it's okay with you... you know where the door is."

"I just found your camera half an hour ago and RAN all the way here to bring it back because I know how much it means to you. Now if you don't believe me, that's your problem, but you can at least say thank you so I don't feel worse than I already do." Mark fiddled with his camera and the reel inside, and she went on. "Besides I'm not finished yet, Mark, there's something else I need to tell you."

Mark sighed. He should apologize. "Thank you oh great queen of Avenue A. Now can you finish up please?"

She turned away abruptly, as if she was hiding something from him. He waited, and as she slowly turned her head back he could see a glimmer around her eyes. He looked at her carefully, then continued working. She finally faced him and looked at him determinedly. "I realized something today... yesterday... I don't know, maybe even before but I kept denying it."

"Get to the point Maureen." He didn't mean to sound heartless, he was just tired of her empty excuses. Plus, he wasn't in the mood for long explanations. He kept hooking things up, walking around to get what he needed. She walked into the living room, finding a more comfortable spot. She found it and sat down.

"Yesterday," she started again. This is going to be a long night, thought Mark. "During my show... I had this, umm... some sort of a... revelation... I... oh man, I can't even say it right."

He knew she was rambling. He decided to change subjects so that he wouldn't have to hear her ramble on about her "revelation," which was of no interest to him. "Oh how was your show, by the way?" he asked casually. Okay, so he only chose this topic to mock her inside, but it felt nice finally getting at her without the blame.

"Disaster," she whispered. "I... I didn't do it." From the corner of his eyes he saw her bury her head in her hands, and lowered down to her knees. She was obviously still traumatized about the whole thing. Couldn't she ever get over herself?

"I'm... sorry to hear that," he said half truthfully, half just-wanting-her-to-go-away like. He became quiet. "Maureen... what's the real reason why you're here?"

"That's just it, I'm trying to get there!" she said discouragingly. Mark sighed. "What I'm trying to say, Mark, is that I... I still-"

"Look Maureen, I'm sorry to interrupt but every time we say that we're over, we somehow bump into each other again. Why can't we just leave each other alone?" He was becoming irritated, and he not only blamed her, but himself.

"Because maybe we just can't," she answered. "Maybe that's just our problem, maybe we can't lea-"

"Fuck!" A spark pinched his finger as he toyed with reel from his camera. "Did you do anything to this camera?"

"I didn't touch it!"

Something wasn't working, and Mark couldn't figure out what could be wrong with it. "Are you sure you didn't toss it around the room a few times, just to get back at me?"

"WHAT? I know how much it means to you, how can you even think that I'd make you miserable on purpose, messing with this camera? I don't know how that damn thing works!"

"You think you'd know a thing or two about cameras with you in front of it all the time." He shook his head furiously. "See, now you're distracting me. What the hell was I doing?" he thought for a minute to gather his knowledge, and tried to stay focused.

"Well, I'm sorry for distracting you but if you leave that damn camera alone and listen to what I have to say!"

She wasn't blaming him again, was she? "Well you're not saying anything, you keep stopping!" He didn't take notice that he had absent-mindedly clipped the reel into its projector.

She hesitated for a second, then, "Look, I can't do this anymore. I'm sick of dramas, I'm sick of pretending. So I'm here... to tell you... that I still..."

Suddenly a flitting noise came from the screen, and the projector flickered on. Mark turned his head to the screen, and his eyes widened. A shot of Maureen was seen. "What the...?" Onscreen Maureen walked toward the camera, her face invading the camera, but the audio was a bit fuzzy. "Are you SURE you didn't do anything with this camera?" he didn't recognize the shot so he figured she played around with it beforehand.

It looked as if she was about to cry, but Mark hardly noticed. "I told you I didn't-"

The screen suddenly viewed only the floor, two pairs of feet walking around, one pair he recognized to be his. Suddenly the audio cleared up and Maureen's familiar voice spoke through the screen, crying "I am SO DRUNK!" Mark looked at this, horrified.

"Oh my God... What is this?" he thought aloud.

"I don't know," she said softly.

He continued to stare at it, almost mesmerized. When was this? There was more dialogue... something about trying to find some aspirin, and how Maureen hated "this part." This part? What part? Mark tried to rattle his brain. He couldn't remember saying anything like that.

"Do you have any idea when this was?" he asked her softly.

"Could it be that..." she stopped.

He knew exactly what she meant. That night... that night where he found himself in his... the night that was like a missing scene in his life... "God I hope not." He suddenly heard himself onscreen say, _Melt? You used to make me melt_. That was his voice, but he hardly recognized it. Did he really say that? He wouldn't ever have admitted that to her, not after all they've been through. "I never said that... I..." No, it couldn't be...

"Oh God... so this is why they say people shouldn't get drunk."

Inside, Mark felt a sort of pity for her. Could she be that dense? Being drunk didn't exactly win you anything. "You mean you couldn't figure it out before?"

"I guess I never believed them... is it still on?"

There had been a bit of silence of the film. They must have been quite a distance between the camera and them because there was a brief buzzing, indicating that it must have still be on. Mark nodded. "Yeah, it's just that we moved... to another room." God, please let it not have been the bedroom. He shuddered at the thought.

"I can't believe I don't remember any of this," she said quietly.

"Me either," he said softly. And now he didn't know whether to blame her for that night. Was it both their fault? "Well... at least we'll finally know the truth." Did he want to know what actually happened? He wasn't quite positive about that. He was so confused.

"Do you feel better now, knowing it?"

"I'll feel better once I know the truth," he stated.

"Where did we go?" she asked.

God, I don't know! He just wanted to finish this film, and get it over it. Perhaps, when they knew the truth they can finally put the haunting past behind them, and begin a new life... Suddenly, a faint wail came that sounded like _Haha! Got it open! _Mark shook his head disappointedly.

"I hope that wasn't a beer bottle or something."

"I think it was aspirin," she answered. At least she recalled something.

"You remember? I wish I remembered."

"That's the only thing I do remember. Not much more." Suddenly a comment about her apartment being dirty was heard, and he couldn't believe that he was the one who said it. Before, he would have never dare to insult the great Maureen Johnson lifestyle, but now that he knew he said it, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Your apartment is pretty dirty," he said.

Maureen laughed a bit. "It's not anymore, since Collins moved in." He finally looked at her and she had moved closer to the screen, on the floor. Suddenly, Mark's heart stopped. Mark heard himself onscreen calling Maureen a dirty whore. He looked at the projector in shock. He didn't dare go back and look at her. Then... _you gonna screw the neighbor's dog next? _He cringed. Could he be that cruel about their relationship?

"So do you really think all that or was it the alcohol speaking?" she asked quietly. Mark still kept his eyes on the screen. He wasn't sure what to say. Did he really mean it? Under the circumstances he knew, he was out of his mind, but… was there actually some truth in it? As a safe gesture, he shook his head slowly.

"I'm sorry Maureen." That's all he could say.

They continued to watch silently. There was arguing, lots of it, and emotional outbursts. He heard himself say that he throve on her pain, and her blaming him on not getting over it after a whole year. The big question came… Mark had asked why she left him… A question he never dreamed he would ask if he was sober. He mostly assumed it was his fault. It made sense. He wasn't a prize to begin with. But Mark waited intently for the answer. She said she needed more, and that she thought Joanne would be able to give her more. It was hard listening to the reply; it was a needle through his heart. He then heard himself ask why she didn't tell him before, and that he would have made it better- that he would have done anything to make her happy. Mark pondered on those thoughts. He remembered that feeling.

"It was true, you know," he said absent-mindedly.

"What was?" she asked. She was suddenly sitting near him. He didn't realize when she had moved, he was drowned in his own thoughts.

"I… I really would have done anything… to make you happy." She took his hand with hers, and Mark felt that well-known feeling sneaking back in.

"I know you would," she said. She made a sudden face and pulled her hand away abruptly. She blushed and looked away. "Sorry."

He didn't say anything. He brought his hands to his lap and continued watching. Things calmed down a bit on the film, and then there was a mention of his shirt bringing out his eyes. Mark smiled. "Do you like my eyes?" he asked ingenuously.

"You know I do," she whispered.

"I almost stopped believing it," he said frankly. "I guess… I needed to hear it again." Then from the video they heard _I've always loved your eyes, you know_. Mark thought this was funny. "And again and again." He kept watching and tried to figure out what was going on scenery wise, but with hardly any luck. They could have been positioned anywhere. Then he heard himself apologize for something. Mark bit his lip. He hoped he didn't hurt her.

"Sorry for whatever I did," he said quickly.

"Why, what happened?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I kicked you in the stomach."

She didn't seem to have taken it as a joke. Instead she looked at him thoughtfully, and then asked, "Why would you do that?"

Mark sighed, and continued to listen. And then it felt as if someone punched him in the face. Maureen gasped. He heard the words that he never thought he'd ever say, to save all humility and embarrassment. He had said _Maureen, I still love you_. I still love you. He still loved her? Mark was horrified, shocked. He didn't want to confront her. Don't think about it, he said to himself. The phone rang suddenly. It seemed to always ring at the most fortunate moments. Perhaps someone was looking after him. An angel… Angel…

"SPEAK…." Their answering machine was screening. Roger's voice came on. "Mark, are you there? Are you screening? Oh, fuck it, look, if you get back home, take a cab and come to the hospital. I'm here with Collins, Mimi... she collapsed in Life, we're in the ER... just... be here as soon as you can, okay? Bye."

She collapsed in Life. Maureen, I still love you. Come to the hospital. Maureen, I still love you. Angel, I hear you. Maureen, I still…SHIT.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N from PinkElphaba- hi guys, as always, thanks for your reviews. Just so you'll know, in the following weeks our updates might be less frequent due to reasons that are out of our control (aka school, ugh), but we're still here- the story is NOT finished yet so keep following it! Don't you go anywhere! Here's the next chapter, enjoy and review of course!**

**Chapter Twenty**

"Maureen, I still… I still love you."

That statement still echoed in Maureen's ears long after she first heard it. The relief she felt by finally learning the truth about that night was suddenly replaced with panic and the slightest excitement. It was the tiniest spark of hope, yet it was the only one Maureen could hold on to.

She kept staring at the projector for a long moment in disbelief, then slowly removed her gaze to Mark. He didn't look back. He looked shaken; his gaze never left the screen, as if he couldn't believe he told her that. It was over a month ago, long before Michelle. Could it still be true? Was it true back then, or was it again the alcohol speaking out of him as before, when he said all these horrible things to her…

Why wouldn't he face her? Was it because he was embarrassed that his well-kept secret was revealed, or because it was complete nonsense? Whatever the answer was, Maureen couldn't let it go. She had to know.

"Mar-"

The phone rang. The sound was faint yet audible, as it pierced the uncomfortable silence between them. Maureen leaned back with a desperate sigh. Mark didn't look as if he was going to answer the phone. His gaze remained fixated on the screen. For a moment, Maureen wasn't even sure that he heard it… The machine took over.

Roger's voice… urgent, panicked… come to the hospital… Mimi… collapsed… ER…

It happened in an instant. Suddenly, what happened that night didn't seem to matter, as Roger's message quickly sunk in.

Maureen got up the second Mark did. His haste movement caused some of his equipment to crash on the floor. The projector was shot off immediately. "Shit…" he mumbled without really realizing what he had just done. Then it seemed to hit him, and he cursed louder. "SHIT!" He didn't give it much thought as he started moving around the living room. "Mimi…" he murmured, pacing back and forth, looking for something. "Wallet… wallet…" he stopped and stared at the answering machine as if it was the first time he had seen it. Maureen didn't have a chance to blink before Mark launched himself towards it. "Roger? Roger, I'm coming!"

But Roger was no longer at the other end as the machine's red light started blinking madly.

Maureen grabbed her bag and slipped back into Collins' jacket. She ran to the door and stood there, fidgeting impatiently, as she watched Mark, who was still pacing back and forth across the room, helplessly looking for his wallet. What is it with men when it comes to emergencies, she wondered. They became so impossibly hopeless, it was pathetic. Maybe I should stick with women after all, she told herself.

All she cared about was getting to the hospital. That message, along with Roger's frightened tone, frightened her as well. An unmistakable sense of panic was slowly creeping under her skin, making her blood freeze in her veins, causing her heart to sink. The worst thing was, that she KNEW something was wrong with Mimi the other night, and told Collins only an hour ago, and he just dismissed it, as if it was nothing, blaming it on her work… _She did four double shifts last week to get off yesterday for your show…_ Your show. She completely forgot about Mark's statement as she suddenly remembered these two horrible words. _Your show_. It was all her fault. Mimi exhausted herself the week before just to be there, to see her perform, without even considering the consequences of her hasty actions… and to make things worse, Maureen didn't even perform eventually, so Mimi's efforts were for nothing.

Damnit, why is it taking Mark so fucking long? "Mark! Mark, leave the damn wallet, I'll pay for the cab, now COME ON!" She had to get to Mimi. She had to make sure that she was okay. She was the closest thing to a younger sister Maureen ever had. She couldn't lose her… THEY couldn't lose her… their angel…

Mark finally relented and followed her to the door, struggling with the sleeves of his jacket.

"Come on, let's go!" she put her hand on the knob and opened the door.

They nearly bumped into Michelle, who had her hand in the air, as if she was about to knock on the door. She kept her balance and didn't stumble forward. Maureen's theory was proved as correct. Women were faster in their reactions, in all cases. Michelle's surprise lasted a split second before her eyes narrowed as she observed the scene in front of her. Her cold and accusing gaze wandered from Mark to Maureen, and back to Mark.

"Mark?"

Mark's hysteric state of mind seemed to die away quickly as his puzzled gaze met her cold one. It was as if Michelle was the last person he expected to see on his doorway, which took Maureen by surprise, since she believed she was the one holding that position by now.

"Michelle?" he looked at Maureen, then back at Michelle. "Look, we really need to leave-" he started, intending to take her along with them.

And then it started.

"I should have KNOWN!"

Maureen's head snapped up as she instantly detected the unfamiliar bitterness in Michelle's tone. It was pathetic. She looked at her pitifully. "What? Hey, hold on a second, he didn't-" her voice trailed off. She knew what she wanted to say, but she also knew how it would sound. "It's not what you think."

Michelle ignored her. She was looking through Maureen as she kept yelling at Mark. "Just because we had that little fight you go and sleep with your ex-girlfriend? You are DIRT, Mark Cohen!"

A fight? Maureen was a little surprised to hear it, but then again, she didn't have time to ponder over it as she listened to Michelle's scolding and accusations in total shock.

Mark looked amazed at her reaction as well as he stared at her. "WHAT? I wouldn't stoop so low! What do you take me for?"

Michelle didn't seem to buy that. "Then what's the real explanation for her being here?" she shot Maureen such a look that told her everything she needed to know. Michelle despised her. The truth was, that Maureen didn't give a damn. She didn't like HER much either.

"Michelle, I really don't have TIME-" tried Mark again.

"I don't care, you… you… sleaze…"

Maureen rolled her eyes and glanced at Mark. He looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his girlfriend's ridiculous reaction. Was that her best?

She had to help Mark. She had to support him, or she'd end up ruining his life again. "Michelle, look, we'll explain later, but right now we have to-"

"Don't talk to me, you whore!" snapped Michelle.

Maureen's jaw nearly dropped. Did Mark's perfect little Jewish girlfriend just call ME a WHORE? Her eyes narrowed. "WHAT? How dare you speaking to me like that, you don't even know me!"

Michelle glared at her maliciously. "I know exactly who you are! You're a lonely-wannabe-lesbian-that-can't-get-with-men-or-women-and-can't-find-out-who-the-hell-you-are bitch, so you try to sleep with those you've hurt!"

WHOA! That was all Maureen could think about after listening to that mouthful speech coming out of the pleasant looking girl who was standing before her. Looks can deceive, indeed, she told herself. She was too horrified and amazed by what she had just heard, to even be hurt by it. That boring innocent-looking girl does have a dirty mouth, she thought as she returned Michelle's glare but said nothing. She was trying to preserve every piece of self-control she still had. She wanted to act like an adult for once, but knew that her own outburst was only a matter of time. It felt like there was a bomb ticking inside of her. Michelle was not very far from making it explode.

Mark looked horror stricken himself as he stared at her in disbelief. "Michelle-" he started just as Maureen decided to say something anyway, so she'd have some dignity left.

"I'm not sleeping with him! Taken guys are not my style, no matter what you might have heard!"

Michelle didn't look too convinced. "Then why the hell you are here? I know damn well it's not to borrow a cup of sugar!"

"Why I'm here is none of your goddamn business!" Maureen backfired, steamed.

Michelle shot her a look as if she was stupid. "I'm Mark's GIRLFRIEND, I deserve to KNOW!"

"Michelle, please, nothing is going on," started Mark as he tried to get Michelle out of their way.

The slap came out of nowhere. "Don't TOUCH me, you pig!"

Maureen couldn't take it. She jumped in front of Mark, facing Michelle, whose pretty features seemed to disappear behind a façade of fury. "Hey, get your hands off him!"

Michelle shoved her aside abruptly. "I will do as I please, slut!" Maureen stared at her wide-eyed as she turned back to face Mark. "I can't believe you!"

Maureen decided to ignore the fact that Mark's perfect girlfriend had just called her a slut. Must be real love after all, she thought bitterly as she once again tried to push Michelle away from Mark. "He tells you the truth, nothing is going on. If you're his girlfriend as you claim to be, you should believe him, not suspecting him!" She could feel Mark's gaze piercing her back. She didn't dare to turn and face him.

Michelle snorted. "Sure, grin and smile when I see my boyfriend with his ex, the fucker he swore he never would be seen with, who he swore he never wanted to be with!"

Maureen sighed. Why wouldn't she get it? She was supposed to be bright and educated! "He didn't even know I was coming here!" She glanced at Mark. He looked worried and tipsy, and Maureen knew it wasn't much because of Michelle's jealousy scene. He was obviously more concerned for Roger and Mimi. And they were running out of time. "Look, this is pointless and we really need to go-"

"You're not going anywhere until I found out what happened!" she grabbed Maureen's wrist and tried to pull her out of the way.

And Mark finally raised his voice. "Michelle, let go of her!"

By the look on Michelle's face, Maureen could tell she was waiting for him to say just that. "I KNEW it, you're trying to PROTECT her!" she cried triumphantly.

Maureen couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. Mark didn't even try to contradict her.

"Let GO!" he repeated, getting agitated.

Michelle raised her hand to slap him again, but he was quicker to react this time. He ducked away, and her arm hit Maureen. It caught her completely off guard and she nearly lost her balance from its force. The bitch can hit, thought Maureen as a burning sensation went over her lower lip. She touched it slightly, and her fingers were stained with blood. It was then she noticed the silver ring on Michelle's finger.

Michelle smirked, obviously satisfied with that result. "You deserved it, whore…"

Mark shook his head and glanced at Maureen quickly. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed the blood that was now streaming from her split lip. She nodded, to let him know that she was okay. She wasn't, really, it hurt like hell, but she didn't want to make him even more worried than he already was. Then he turned to face Michelle again. "Michelle, calm down…"

"How could you do this to me?" she asked, her tone full with accusation.

Mark looked as if he was about to strangle her. He looked at her desperately. "Do WHAT to you?"

Michelle said nothing, but rather glared menacingly at Maureen, who glared back at her. That's it, she told herself. I was trying to be mature, but no more. I have to fight back. She strode forward, fueled by fury and pain, her eyes burning. Speaking came out with a little difficulty as a result of the throbbing pain from her split lip, but she tried to ignore it as she said, "Will you just LISTEN for a second? He didn't do anything! Why can't you understand that? And stop calling me names; you know nothing about me or my life! Who are you to judge me?"

"He may not have done anything, but I know YOU would show your tits off just to get him in bed! Am I right or what? Isn't that what you were trying to do the first time I stepped into your apartment?"

Maureen stared at her for a moment. She didn't know what the hell was Michelle talking about. When was the first time that bitch was in my apartment? And then she remembered, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The flirting incident. "It was a stupid joke!"

"SOME JOKE!"

"Look, I'm sorry if you can't get jokes, if you can't get ME, but that's fine! Personally, I think you're the most boring person I've ever met, but I'm not going around calling YOU names, so if you don't mind, get off my back and stop bugging me before the next slap here is gonna be on YOUR pretty face!"

Or not…

Michelle slapped Maureen again, impossibly harder, before she even had a chance to blink. Maureen did all she could to stand up straight, though she was already beginning to see black little dots in front of her eyes. Mark tried to help, but Michelle pushed him again and he stumbled backwards.

"Fuck you, Maureen!" she yelled.

"Honestly Michelle, I think it is YOU who needs to be fucked," said Maureen, her tone icy cold. She heard Mark gasp but didn't care. Now she was hurt AND furious. She couldn't hold back any longer. Damn it, she didn't even want to hold back. Michelle definitely crossed the line.

"Come on, Mark!" Michelle grabbed Mark's arm.

Mark shook his hand, trying to release himself from her death grip. His expression was new to Maureen; it was the coldest glare imaginable, an expression that radiated so much distance and scorn, things that she could never relate with Mark. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"I said COME ON!"

"NO!" he yelled back, like a rebellious six-years-old.

Michelle glared at Maureen. "What the hell did you do to him?"

Was she deaf? "What do you want from me, I did nothing to him! And I told you we're leaving, so if you don't mind-" Maureen stepped forward. She needed to get Mark away from that… that…

Michelle let go of Mark and threw Maureen's arm away in the process. She felt sharp pain that was slowly beginning to spread up her arm. Michelle took hold on her other arm, twisting it.

"Michelle, let go of her!" yelled Mark. Now he sounded somewhat panicked. Maureen felt paralyzed. There was not much she could do, being held with both her arms.

Michelle didn't seem to listen, as she yanked at Maureen's hair pulled her inside the loft. It felt as if she was about to rip her hair out of its place. Maureen was so ashamed of herself for behaving so hopelessly, for not fighting back, but frankly there wasn't much she could do. She felt a slow swelling starting at her bruised lip, and she prayed to God that the sharp pain in her arm didn't mean that Michelle managed to pull her arm out of its socket. It happened to her once in her childhood when she fell down from a swing, and putting it back in place hurt like hell.

Now Michelle was dragging her along the loft as if she was a rag doll, completely deaf to Mark's protests. They finally landed on the couch, where Michelle was laying on top of her, straddling her, trying claw her face off.

And then it dawned on Maureen what she was doing, and the fury inside her grew impossibly stronger. You WON'T let her win this; you won't let her win MARK.

Mastering every piece of strength that was left in her, Maureen freed her arms from Michelle's grip and scratched her face. Michelle screamed, as if she wasn't expecting that. Once Maureen had her distracted it was easier to hit back, and she raised her knee and pushed it into Michelle's stomach. Mark stood there, watching in disbelief as they were rumbling on, scratching each other, yanking at each other's hair, cursing. Somehow they switched positions and it was now Maureen who was lying on top of Michelle, her hair falling down her sweating face, blocking her already blurry vision. Why am I even doing this, she thought as she managed to escape from an elbow that came towards her face. I'm better than her, I don't need that! And then someone grabbed her shoulders in a grip that was both forceful and gentle.

"That's enough, girls," said Mark coldly. Maureen turned to face him, breathless. "Let's go, Maureen," he added. Then he turned to face Michelle, who was sprawled on the couch, breathing heavily and still looking furious. "And you… this is over. I don't want to hear from you or even see you ever again."

Maureen stared at him, completely shocked. Did Mark Cohen just… DUMP someone?... And he did it quite well, either; for even she was afraid of his tone. She couldn't help but feel proud. She held herself back from standing up and cheering him loudly.

Michelle looked shocked to hear it as well, but said nothing as she got up and left the loft, slamming the door on her way out.

"Come on Maureen, let's go."

Maureen didn't dare argue with him. Mark handed her her bag, which she dropped at some point earlier. She followed him silently down the stairs and out of the building to the street, where they quickly found a cab.

Maureen leaned back in her seat, still a bit shaken and breathless. Did I just take part in a CAT FIGHT? She always believed she was stronger than that, but that time it really wasn't her fault. Michelle's behavior was really nasty; Maureen couldn't let her go on with her insults. Who knew what Michelle was able to do, unless she fought her back.

Mark's voice snapped her back into reality. "You didn't have to fight her like that."

Soft. Comforting. Maureen wanted to lay her head on his shoulder. "I didn't have to fight HER? It was totally self defense, she slapped me twice Mark, I did nothing to her."

Mark scratched his head as he looked at her worriedly. He looked as if he wanted to ask her something, but didn't. "I… I'm really sorry."

She found a small mirror and some tissues in her bag, and tried to fix her appearance, but found it impossible in the cab's shaky movement. "Why are YOU sorry?"

"For everything. For going out with that insane bitch, and letting her go at you… anyway, I think I've had it with women for a while. I get such a headache…" he chuckled, "Maybe I should try men? "

Maureen couldn't think of anything else but NO-NO-NO-NO-NO. The next thing he said caught her completely off guard.

"I just want to clear things out with you so we won't keep… you know, 'bumping' into each other. No more. We leave each other with no more… distractions. Only if you agree. This way we won't hurt each other. Okay?"

She couldn't believe that he was actually saying that, to HER! It was worse than being dumped, that was for sure. Hidden feelings? Might feel the same? Damn you, Collins! "You mean, like… not see each other again?" she asked weakly.

Mark slowly nodded. "For a while, you know. I mean, after everything that's happened I need some time away from you. Maybe in time we can be… friends."

FRIENDS? He couldn't mean THAT! Not when she finally realized that she loved him!

Mark didn't notice her mortified expression, or he just chose to ignore it, as he kept on talking. "But we can't do that until, you know… we agree not to do anything to hurt each other."

Maureen hesitated. What was she suppose to say? She couldn't possibly agree to that! "Well, you know, Mark," she started slowly, carefully glancing at him, "I don't think I'll be able to do this-"

"Maureen, please," he said, cutting her off. "For so long, it's always been your way. Can't you think about me for once?"

His honesty touched her heart. She saw the desperation that was reflected in his eyes. He was right. Through their entire relationship, he was always silently bidding to her every command, whether he liked it or not. Well, for once she had to do that for him, too. He deserved that. It was probably the most painful decision she'd ever got to in her life. She slowly nodded her agreement. "Okay, we'll have it your way," she said quietly.

Mark stared at her, completely surprised by her answer. He seemed to be expecting a struggle. "R-really? You really mean it?"

No I don't really mean it! "Yes, I really mean it." Damnit, don't cry now! Her voice quivered a bit when she added, "Mark, I want you to know that I'll never do anything to hurt you… at least not intentionally. So yes, for once, we'll do it your way."

Mark's lips curled into a small cute smile that made Maureen's heart melt. "Gee, Maureen, you're acting really mature about this, thanks." But then he remembered something and his smile faded. "That means I'll have to stay away from Collins for a while," he added sorrowfully.

Maureen shook her head. The cab stopped in front of the ER. She sighed thoughtfully as she took some bills out of her purse and handed them to the driver. "I think we're going to spend some time here… all of us, together… God, I hope she's okay." More than anything, she hoped they weren't too late. They wasted so much time already thanks to stupid Michelle…

Mark touched her hand gently. It was the slightest touch, but it made her heart leap.

"She'll be okay," he promised as they went out of the cab. "Umm… bill me in the morning," he added, slightly embarrassed.

Maureen forced a smile. "Come on, that's what friends are for, right?" She didn't wait for his reply and just stepped into the ER. She didn't even bother to check if Mark was following her inside. She went straight to the reception area, in the middle of the crowded room.

A tired looking receptionist looked back from her notes, staring at her strangely. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"Yeah, hi. I'm looking for my friend, Mimi Marquez, she was-"

"Maureen!"

Maureen turned at the familiar sound of Collins' voice. He was running towards her from the other end of the room, and she met him halfway with a worried expression on her face. He said nothing when he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug and Maureen buried her face in the fabric of his shirt with a sigh of relief. At least Collins was there. She felt like crying, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

Collins held her close, like he was drawing comfort from her body that was pressed to his, and he caressed her hair absentmindedly. "I tried to call you at home but you never answered… did you hear that message I left for you?"

He probably called her at the same time Roger called Mark, she realized. He pulled away from the hug so she could now look at him. She shook her head. "Yes… I mean no, I was-"

He was just staring at her in shock for a moment, giving her the same strange look the receptionist had just given her, and Maureen didn't understand why at first. Then she remembered the dry blood and the bruises on her face. "My good Lord, what the hell happened to you?" he breathed.

Maureen shook her head. No time for long explanations. First she had to explain that to herself anyway. "It's not important right now. How's Mimi? Where is she? Will she be okay?"

"They took her up to the ICU to check on her," said Collins. Suddenly he looked over her shoulder and nodded, as if acknowledging someone's presence. Maureen turned to look back. Mark was standing there watching them, with his hands in his pockets. He took Collins' nod as a sign to move closer, but he said nothing as Collins started telling them what happened.

"We were having dinner at Life when all of a sudden she started choking. We thought it was because of something she ate but then it came to a point where she could hardly breathe. She started coughing like crazy, spitting blood…" he closed his eyes, as if talking about it alone was unbearable. Maureen snaked her hand into his and gave it a small comforting squeeze. "Then she fainted so we brought her here as soon as we could."

"Where's Roger?" asked Mark. It was the first thing he said since they left the cab.

"He's up there with her in the ICU. He's not in good shape himself, he started screaming at the doctor who tried to get him away from her," said Collins, shaking his head.

"What do the doctors say?" asked Maureen. She wasn't even sure she wanted to hear the answer, yet she had to ask.

Collins had a hard time answering her question, but eventually he did. He put his hand under her chin, making her face him. His eyes were like two pools of liquid chocolate, glistening with tears. Maureen was horrified to realize that. Collins rarely cried. The last time she had seen him cry was in Angel's funeral.

He looked straight at her, and his voice trembled slightly when he finally said, "They don't think she's gonna make it."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N- The end's drawing near but we hope you won't be too upset with the outcome. We assure you that you won't be disappointed. Meanwhile, keep following our updates, and thank you for pushing us to the 100s on reviews. Your support means a lot!**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"Not going to make it?" repeated Mark traumatized. Not again, he thought desperately. Don't do this to him again. He didn't know whom exactly he was talking to, but he prayed to anyone to keep Mimi alive. Mark thought of all the suffering Roger had gone through with April, all the suffering he's going through with his AIDS… a man could only take so much.

"Mark!"

He looked behind Collins, and saw Roger speeding toward them, a frantic look in his eyes. He appeared to be terrified, frustrated… expressions that he once saw in his friend before. It was all some horrible deza vu. Mark met Roger halfway. Roger was about to scream, he knew it.

"They won't let me stay with her!" he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger down the hall. "She needs me… I need her! Mark- I can't do this again."

His pleas were of devastation and total hurt. He slunk his head down, and rubbed his eyes intensely. Mark placed his hands on Roger's shoulder, and led him to the waiting room after giving Collins a solemn look. He felt pity for Roger, and he only hoped that there would be one moment in his life where he would fulfill everything he's ever dreamed of. They sat in the waiting room, which was nearly empty except for a couple, bowing their heads in sleep. Roger was trying hard not to cry. Most of his ranting about the doctors came out halfway through his throat, and he couldn't help but choke on a few words.

"Why does this keep happening?" he asked miserably. "What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Roger," Mark replied. This sounded all too familiar. It was almost like the conversation they had when April left the world. "Look… at least you have someone solid. It's even worse when what you want is so near, and yet you can't…" He stopped. What was he talking about? He wanted to kick himself. He shouldn't shift the pity on himself to make his best friend feel better. He had to comfort him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Mimi, gone? How could two simple words cause so much agony? Roger laid his forehead on Mark's shoulder. A few moments later he could feel his best friend's tears soaking through his jacket. Mark just sat there patiently as Roger wept quietly.

It was a long night. No one slept. It was too hard to. Plus, Mark never was comfortable in an environment filled with bright, piercing lights, needles, and the aroma of human flesh circulating the air. It was all some horrible sci-fi movie. Collins and Maureen stayed nearby but minded their distance between him and Roger. Mark often found himself alone, however, because Roger tried to pry into Mimi's room now and again. He couldn't keep still. If he wasn't complaining, or trying to peek through the small window of Mimi's room, or picking the lock, he was pacing around God knows where. Mark tried to get him to eat something, but he would only take water. Mark did have his moment where Roger got up once again, only this time in a different direction.

"Where are you going?" Mark had asked for the hundredth time. It wasn't toward Mimi's room. Roger mumbled something, but he couldn't understand it. "What?"

"I said I need to use the restroom," said Roger irritably. Collins and Mark exchanged glances, and tried not to laugh. They didn't. The humor instantly dissipated and the tragic feeling of losing Mimi came forth again.

Mark didn't sleep at all. He stayed awake the whole night until the morning sun crept in. Collins managed some rest, and Maureen had taken a liking to an orange chair that she kept nodding to sleep on. Mark was wide awake though. He felt that he needed to watch over Roger in case he needed him. The extra time gave Mark a chance to think. About what? About anything. Mostly Angel. He was hoping that she would help Mimi back onto the track of life like she did once before. Miracles happened everyday. Mark hoped that Mimi would be the lucky one, and be saved by Angel once again. They could always depend on Angel.

Roger had been gone for a long time. Three hours. Where could he have disappeared to? Mark began to worry. He couldn't have gotten lost. No… they had been there too many times, he wasn't lost. Mark stood up, and started to walk around. He checked out various rooms, casually strolled up and down the halls, nonchalantly peered inside some curtains, but still, Roger was out of sight. He had checked Mimi's door three times, and knew he wasn't there. Where was he?

"What are you DOING?"

That was Roger's voice. Mark turned his head quickly. Two doctors, or nurses, were holding Roger's arms as he tried to struggle free.

"Calm down sir, you'll be back home soon," said one of the guys in white.

"I'm NOT crazy!" Roger yelled.

"We didn't say you were, sir," said the other. Mark walked toward them and tried to be as calm as possible. He would have liked to yell at them, but this was one of the times where he had to act mature.

"Excuse me, what's going on here?" Mark asked.

"It's all right, we've got everything under control," said one of the nurses.

"Mark-"

"I think you've made a mistake, this is my friend Roger. His girlfriend's in the hospital, I don't think it would do him any good if you go on treating him this way." Mark grabbed a hold of Roger's arm and pulled him away.

"Sorry," the other said. "He never told us. But he has to be aware that the needles and all other medical equipment are off limits."

Needles? Mark nodded. "Got it, he's just a bit out of it." They nodded and left. Mark looked at him seriously. "Needles?" he repeated his thought.

"Mark, I can't take it, it's driving me nuts! They might as well have just thrown me in the asylum."

"You said you wouldn't even think about doing that anymore," said Mark.

"I needed something…anything… and it's all good right? From the hospital." Mark knew that he was trying his dry humor on him, but it wasn't funny. Mark just frowned and stared at him disappointedly, and Roger threw him a dirty look.

"I didn't do it, if that makes you feel better," he said.

"Roger, don't let this get to you. She's going to be okay-"

"Mark this is life. This is the way life is, and I'm so fucking tired of it. Death seems to be a lot better than this. At least you don't see anyone die." He choked up and fell to his knees. "Not Mimi. Me. Mimi. Me instead of Mimi."

Mark knelt beside him and hugged his friend. How was it that a few days ago Mimi was as excitable as ever, and now she was lying on a hospital bed, possibly her deathbed? How was it that life threw everything at them, but lemons? There wasn't much time for anything. God, give us more time, Mark prayed. Give Mimi more time.

"Help me Mark," whispered Roger softly.

"You gotta be strong, man," replied Mark. He felt himself becoming teary as well. "Mimi's doing all she can, but she's weak right now. You've got to be strong for Mimi and for you. If she sees you like this… what is she going to think? If she sees you breaking down, she'll be even more afraid. You can't do that to her."

"You're right." He pulled away. "Why are you always right?"

Mark shrugged. He really didn't know. He was good at giving his friends advice and yet they failed to do him any good.

"Is everything all right with you?" asked Roger trying to wipe the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Fine… I'm uhh... single again."

Roger sniffed and looked at him. "I'm sorry man."

"No, I called it off. We're cool. Don't worry about me, take care of yourself. I'll get some pizza. You have to eat something."

"Why bother? If I faint, I'm at the right place to do it."

"Come on, let's get back before Collins get worried. Then I'll pick up some pizza and soda."

"Mark?" They stood up.

"Yeah?"

"It's 8a.m."

"Oh. Then I'll get some coffee." 8a.m., man he couldn't even keep track of the time. It was all such a mess. They returned to the waiting room where Collins and Maureen tried to ask as nicely as possible where the hell they had been. They had explained what happened, and Collins had some great news.

"I bought you some time with Mimi. The doctors said you could go in right now. But I'm afraid she's still unconscious," said Collins.

"That's fine, I just want to be with her," said Roger.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee. Orders?" asked Mark.

"Cappuccino, strong," said Collins.

"Vanilla latte," murmured Maureen. Mark looked at Roger.

"Nothing," he said and left abruptly. Mark switched expressions with Collins, but Collins sighed.

"Get him some coffee. Black. He needs something strong."

"All right, be back soon." Mark treaded out of the hospital as quickly as possible. It felt nice to be outside again, the sun providing a soothe feeling of heat unlike the cold ones the hospital gave off. There was a Starbucks nearby so he went there, although they overcharged ridiculously. But he did have to admit. They served damn good coffee.

He entered the peaceful coffee shop, the air filled with the fresh scent of mocha, soft music playing in the background, unruffled with noise and commotion. It was so calm, so tranquil. He stepped up to the counter and the young lady smiled at him, asking for his order. They were always so perky at Starbucks. He gave her the order, and she asked for his name.

"Mark," he replied and she scribbled it on each cup with a black Sharpie pen.

"Mark," she repeated. He looked up to see that she was gone, however. That voice was not coming from her. He turned around. Michelle smiled meekly.

"Michelle. Hi." He didn't know what else to say. He definitely did not expect to see her there so soon. What he had hoped was that they'd just sort of stop seeing each other without a reason or a word. Obviously, he didn't like heavy break-ups. Plus, he didn't feel like another argument. Michelle was just too much for him…too much like his parents…

"Mark. Can we talk?" she asked, tiredly. She looked as if she didn't get much sleep. He probably didn't look so good either.

"I guess. But I have to leave in a few."

"Can't you drink it here?"

"It's not just for me, they're for my friends at the hospital." Mark stopped himself from saying anymore. If he mentioned that Mimi was in the hospital she might freak out and go into that whole I-told-you-so ordeal. He looked down and leaned against the counter.

"Mark. Mark I'm really sorry. I lost my temper last night."

"I noticed," he replied. The terrifying scene that the two were going to tear each other apart replayed in his mind. He hated to see them fight; he hated any violence like that whatsoever. What was there to fight over anyway? It was stupid. And he couldn't believe Michelle, of all people, didn't have enough sense to stop the fight. Instead, she was the one who started it.

"I hope that you could forgive me," she said desperately. "I didn't mean it, I… I really care about you."

Mark looked at her but something felt funny. He didn't feel compassion, or love, or his heart swelling up. He just felt passive, bored. He looked through her.

"Michelle. I can't. It's over," he said plainly.

She looked at him horrified. "You can't mean that."

"Michelle. I was obviously wrong about you. You weren't the girl I thought you were," he said bluntly. Why was this coming along so easily? Something felt strange, but right. He said it without hesitation when usually he would be shaking in his boots.

"I've always been the same girl from the moment I approached you at Life Café. Mark you can't do this, we need each other."

"I think I could do pretty well without you." He was beginning to become annoyed with her desperateness.

"Mark you saved me."

Huh? "What?" He was beginning to think this girl was a bit off her rocket.

"I love you Mark."

He stood there in silence. The girl he was looking at before him was not the same girl that came up to him at Life. It was all some façade. It was all some hallucination. He use to look at Michelle and think that this was the most wonderful woman in the world, and that she was the one to fill him with happiness forever. But now that he looked at her, he just saw another face. Another face lost in the crowd. Another face in this world of deceit. "Michelle, I don't love you."

"Mark, order's ready," someone called from behind a counter. He looked at the far end and saw four drinks. He walked over and stirred some sugar and cream in his coffee, and sprinkled some cinnamon. "Can I get a placeholder for these?"

"Sure," said the girl and ducked underneath.

"It's her isn't it?" Michelle was behind him.

"What are you talking about?" Mark knew very well who she was talking about but decided to take this opportunity to awaken the devil inside her, just to prove how evil she really was.

"Maureen, you've been with her all this time," she claimed.

"Right, like I have enough money to spend on the both of you, let alone Maureen." He didn't mean it as it sound, just that Maureen would be hard to spoil because she asked for so much. But Michelle took it the wrong way.

"How could you do that to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you Michelle," he said.

"God, I gave you all of me Mark and I got nothing in return."

"That's not true Michelle," he said protectively. "You were very important to me, but somewhere along the line, you changed."

"Mark, I'll change…"

"No. I don't want you to feel persuaded to change to make us work out… to make us happy. People are supposed to be together and feel comfortable with another regardless of pet peeves. Someone shouldn't have to change for someone unless it comes naturally. People shouldn't change each other, but make each other better."

She was quiet this whole time. Mark had finished with the coffee, and grabbed the handle. He started to walk out leaving Michelle speechless. Please let me make a decent exit, he thought madly. He didn't want to have to trip or anything, how awful would that be?

"Mark," she called. He stopped in his footsteps but didn't turn back. He just waited. "Does this mean it's over?" Mark shook his, and proceeded out. It felt kind of nice. Mark Cohen had never dumped a girl before. Maybe he should do it more often….

Nah. He was sick of dating for a while.

He returned to the hospital with the beverages and Roger was still inside with Mimi. Mark tried to hand him his cup but he refused it. He didn't feel well enough to eat or drink anything, he said. Mark just sighed and drank it himself. He was getting wired. The caffeine was giving him a weird effect. Although he felt sleepy, his veins were jittering like crazy. All day long they occupied themselves with cards, snacks, chess games, puzzles, and silence.

Later that night, Mark started to feel exhausted and he wanted to take a few chairs and just sleep. But he tried to stay awake for a bit more. There was a bit more people than usual in the waiting room. Maureen was sitting between Collins and Mark. Her head was resting on Collins' shoulder, and her eyes were closed. As quietly as possible, Collins and Mark carried out a conversation over her head, without trying to wake her.

"He's in bad condition," said Collins softly. "I've never seen him so obsessed. He was devastated when this happened to April, but this is almost insane. The boy is hurting and we need to be there for him."

"I know, I'm here, he knows we'll always be there for him," said Mark.

"You can't tire yourself out though. You and Maureen should go home, get some sleep. I can handle Roger."

"No, Collins, that's all right. I want to be here for Roger. I want to be a good friend. I can't let him go through with this alone."

"The thing with Roger is that he is alone, and we can't do much about it but let him deal with it. He feels so alone, more alone than ever, now that Mimi is slowly drifting away. I mean the one person he loves is lying sick. He's lost and just utterly lonely. Roger just needs to be with her as much as he can right now."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Hope and pray. We just have to be here for him."

Mark nodded in agreement. Hope and pray. Mark knew Collins was thinking of the same thing. Angel. He knew that Mimi had to go through another tunnel before leaving this world forever. And he knew that Angel had to be standing right at the end of it to tell her to go back.

Mark fell asleep that night. He couldn't help it, he was so tired. A few times he would open his eyes and see Roger in the row in front of him. The doctors must have kicked him out, thought Mark sleepily trying to comprehend as much as he can before falling back asleep. Thankfully Roger was asleep all those times Mark woke up in the middle of the night, so he didn't have to worry about him. He slept uncomfortably, but it was something. He missed the way it felt.

He was later awoken by a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Mark."

Mark groaned. Not now, he thought.

"Mark?"

What? "Hmm?" he opened his eyes warily to see Roger. "What's the matter?"

"Mimi woke up."

"What?" Mark tried to sit up but his head weighed a ton. It rattled a bit and he yawned.

"She woke up, but only for a few minutes. And then she fell out of consciousness again. But she woke up, and I saw her, and she said my name." He was a bit more excited than usual, and it seemed as if that moment with Mimi stored the faith and trust and hope he had lost back into his heart. "I'm going to go back in the room."

Mark nodded wearily and Roger left. Collins appeared next to him. "Go home. It's an order."

"I can't."

"Look Roger's going to be fine, and Mimi looks like she's coming along. If anything big happens I'll tell you. Go play with your film reels, or take some pictures or something. Just get out of here."

"You better call."

"I'll fly over there if I have to, I'm Superman. Now get out of here Mark."

Mark tried to give him a smile but he was too weak. He needed to go home and get a proper sleep. As he walked home, his legs felt more and more like rubber. Every step, every dragging second, exhausted him even further. He almost fell asleep while walking. A century or so later, he arrived at the bus stop just as the bus pulled up. There he tried not to drift into a world of dreams although he kept nodding off next to the man beside him. When he got off and went into his loft, he practically threw himself onto his bed. Ahh, how comfortable. Nothing felt more like Heaven than his bed right there. He didn't bother changing, and snuggled into his covers, drifting into a nice long sleep.

A few hours later he woke up for no particular reason. He just didn't feel tired anymore. Actually, he felt as if he needed to do something. Like there was something he'd been wanting to do for a while now, but just didn't have the time to do it. He hardly even thought about it until now. So he got up, and washed up a bit before heading to the cemetery to visit Angel's grave.

He arrived with the wind's chill wrapping around his neck. He pulled out his scarf from his pocket and tied it around his collar. He liked going here now and again to visit Angel. She was always a comfort to him whenever he was really depressed. She always reminded him about friendship, and how much each person meant to each other. He was a definite philosopher of friendship being thicker than blood. The leaves rustled beneath his feet as he approached Angel's grave. _Angel Dumott Shunard. Today for you, tomorrow for me_.

Mark smiled. Angel, you were always the optimistic one, he thought contentedly. She was always the one that made everyone smile, the one that everyone had to adore. Why she came to their lives so suddenly and left so quickly, he didn't know. Why did God tease them so, to send them such a wonderful angel and then call back for her in no less than a year? He missed her so much. He had learned a lot from her. He was much happier knowing that she gave him the confidence he needed. Ever since she died, his confidence faded along with her. He started to feel depressed all over again.

"I'm trying," he said softly to her gravestone. "I'm trying to be as happy as I can. But it's hard when another one of your friends is dying. So many of them… why are there so many of them?"

He didn't know whom he was asking exactly. All he knew was that there were no answers to his questions, and that they were just questions to be pondered at forever. Perhaps when they reached where Angel is, she can give them the answers. Of course by then it would be too late.

"Save Mimi, Angel," he said softly. "If anything, at all…I'd rather be the unhappiest person in the world than have Mimi die."

A small breeze swept across him. He turned and listened to it whistle softly. If he listened hard enough, he could swear that he heard the wind whispering to him. And the whispers from the wind would be Angel's voice telling him that everything was going to turn out all right…

Mark paused. He heard something. He could hear it. A soft voice crying with the wind. Angel? What was she trying to say? He stayed as quietly as possible and listened hard. It was inaudible. They were just murmurs. Mark shook his head. They weren't Angel's… a small figure caught Mark's eye. Across the cemetery was Maureen praying near April's grave.

April…. God, why April? Why Maureen? Why did she have to be here? Mark glanced once more at Angel's grave, and he felt a strange feeling send down his spine. Something told him that he needed to go to her.

Whatever you say Angel, thought Mark.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Couple of days had passed, but Mimi hadn't yet shown any sign of improvement. She was drifting in and out of consciousness and most of the time she was groggy by painkillers. Maureen wondered how long it would take, as she took a nap on an orange plastic chair in the waiting room, leaning against Collins' broad shoulder. She wasn't really asleep. She hadn't slept properly since they first got into the hospital, and though she was exhausted, she just couldn't let herself completely surrender to slumber. She had to stay awake in case there would be any change, the tiniest change, in Mimi's condition.

Over her head, Mark and Collins were talking in low voices, so that their conversation wouldn't interrupt her. She snuggled closer to Collins, feeling protected by his warmth. She couldn't understand what they were talking about; she was too tired to really listen.

She and Mark hardly spoke to one another, no more than the necessary amount of words. He brought coffee to all of them each morning from the closest Starbucks and gave her hers without even looking at her. Obviously, Collins noticed immediately that something was wrong but even though he tried to ask her about it, Maureen told him nothing, and he knew better than putting any pressure on her. Her arms didn't hurt as much anymore, her lower lip lost its swelling, most of her bruises healed, but her heart was still scarred by Mark's decision to stay away from her for the time being. Of course, Maureen realized his motives. It was true, they hurt each other too many times, he was tired of it and he needed his peace and quiet. He deserved it, too. His timing was just lousy, as far as Maureen was concerned.

Someone wrapped something around her shoulders gently. She opened her eyes to face Collins, who still held one sleeve of the trench coat he had just put around her. She didn't even realize she fell asleep. She smiled tiredly. "Hey."

"Hey sweetie," he removed a lock of hair out of her face.

Maureen sat up and stretched, then looked around her. Mark was nowhere to be seen, and Roger was never in the waiting room anyway. Unless there was a doctor around he had never left Mimi's side. Maureen assumed that Mark was there with him, probably trying to convince him to eat something. The hospital's cafeteria didn't have much to offer for dinner, so for the passing couple of nights Collins ordered a large box of pizza from a nearby Italian restaurant, but Roger hardly even touched that. They were all very worried about him. It was very obvious that he was reliving the nightmare right after April died. Although Mimi's case was different, they remembered too well how Roger was like when he had lost April. They hated to see it happen again.

"What time is it?" asked Maureen through a yawn.

Collins glanced at his watch. "It's 11:30a.m. You should get some sleep, Reeney."

"I just woke up."

Collins shook his head. "No. Not here. Go home, take a real nap. Come back later."

"I can't go home, Collins."

"I insist. Look at you, you're a wreck. We don't need two of you hospitalized," he said gently. "Come on. I'll watch Roger. If I was able to convince Mark to get out of here I'm sure I can convince you as well."

That took her by surprise. "Mark went home?" She couldn't believe he left Roger. He must have been really worn out if he agreed to go.

"I told him to get out of here, to get some fresh air, to take some pictures. He tried to protest but you know me, irresistible."

Maureen smiled weakly, then looked hesitantly at Collins. "I don't know, Collins."

"Come on, Maureen... here," he took some money out of his jacket's inner pocket. "Take a cab. I'll call you later."

Maureen took the money with a frown. "Fine. But when I come back, you go. Okay?" She was worried about him, too. Mimi's declining health brought some painful memories for Collins. Maureen knew he was constantly thinking of Angel's last days. Plus, as the rest of them, he was worried sick about Mimi.

He returned her faint smile. "Okay. Now go," he kissed her forehead.

Maureen hesitated for another moment, then gave him a short hug and left the hospital.

Traffic was surprisingly bearable, and she got home in no time. She locked the door and kicked her shoes off her feet, then changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt and crawled into bed. She tossed and turned, rearranged the pillows under her head, but couldn't fall asleep. The noise from the street seemed stronger than usual, and even the wind chimes on the fire escape sounded like Big Ben. Damn it, she thought as she went out of bed. She really needed to get SOME sleep. The problem was, that she was too exhausted to do even that. She padded into the living room, turned the TV on and laid back on the couch, pulling a woolen blanket over her. Mute cartoons always put her to sleep, so she stared at the screen for a while in an attempt to clear her mind of any thought. She found it impossible. All she could think of was Mark. She knew he was very upset about Mimi's condition and its effect on Roger. He didn't have to say anything about it, it was quite obvious. There was an unmistakable shadow upon his gray blue eyes, which got darker each time the doctor said there was nothing new about Mimi.

She wanted to call him, but couldn't decide if she should. Would it be wise to do that? He made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her. But on the other hand, she was worried about him. She had to try.

The wireless phone was on the coffee table. Maureen picked it up and stared at it thoughtfully before she started dialing. Her only answer, though, was the dial tone, followed by the guys' recorded message. Damn. Maureen hung up, repressing a desperate sigh, and laid back.

If he had answered, what would she have said anyway? How could she have explained why she called? It was a stupid idea, she scolded herself as she closed her eyes. What were you thinking?

An ear-piercing ring made Maureen nearly jumped off the couch with a start. She fell asleep without even knowing it, and the phone's receiver stayed where she had dropped it before, close to her ear. It was still ringing, she realized, and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Maureen?"

Collins. Maureen sat up and looked around her, somewhat disoriented. "Yeah..."

"Did I wake you, sweetie?"

"Guess you did..." she yawned. "I didn't even realize I fell asleep until you called... What time is it?"

"Hmmm... It's nearly 4."

Whoa! "Want me to come to the hospital?" she asked, already halfway to her bedroom. She couldn't believe she was asleep for nearly three hours.

"No. Take your time. I have tons of stuff to read anyway, doesn't matter where I do it. You can come back here tomorrow morning."

Her forehead cringed. Shit. He tricked her again, and she was too tired to even notice it. "Tomorrow morning? Collins, you said-"

"Maureen, come back tomorrow and that's an order. I don't want you to show your pretty face in this waiting room until it's 9a.m. max."

Maureen laughed softly as she sat on her bed. "What am I supposed to do until then?"

"Go back to sleep, go out shopping, I don't care. But stay away from here for the rest of the day."

Being well experienced by now, Maureen knew better than fighting against Collins. She could never win anyway. She sighed. "Whatever you say, Collins."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." He hung up before she had any chance to say anything else.

Since she was already wide-awake, Maureen decided to take a long, well deserved shower. She stood under the water for what felt like hours, washing away the hospital scent that stuck in her hair, drowning it with hot water and rose scented soap. She felt as if she was reborn when she finally stepped back into her bedroom, wrapped in a towel.

She wondered how to spend the rest of the day. She was in no mood for shopping. Neither did she have the money to afford it. She was suddenly full of energy thanks to that shower, but too worried and upset to actually do something about it. On the other hand, she couldn't stay home.

There was only one thing Maureen could think of doing. She thought about it a lot in the passing few days, felt the undeniable urge to go there, but couldn't bring herself to actually go. She hadn't been there for years, yet what happened with Mimi brought back some painful memories, and it was finally time to face them. Maureen couldn't deny to that fact.

She dropped the towel to the floor and put on black pants and a small white T-shirt. She spent some time drying her hair in an attempt to give it some shape, but didn't bother with make-up, for she wasn't in the mood. Dead guys wouldn't care much anyway.

It was almost five when the cab came to a halt in front of the cemetery. Maureen stepped out of it and walked slowly towards the entrance. She hesitated, then took a deep breath and pushed the heavy metal gates open. She hadn't been there for a while, but surprisingly she found her way quite easily among the silent tombstones.

It had a tombstone now, too. The last time she had been there was nearly three years ago in the burial service. The guys were there after Angel's funeral, back in Halloween, but Maureen couldn't bring herself to join them.

She sat on the soft grass and put the flowers she brought closer to the stone. Lilies. She had always loved them.

A sudden gust of wind caused Maureen to snuggle deeper into her red coat. She looked at the tombstone thoughtfully. _April Catherine Rubio- a Beloved Daughter and a Friend_. April was only two years older than Mimi when she died. They were so different from one another. April was never a strong person, not as much as Mimi, who had more strength in her than anyone could possibly imagine. Mimi's fragile look was deceiving. She was well aware of her illness and its consequences, and fought it with all of her might. Maureen adored her for that. Mimi's future might be at stake, but at least she gave a good fight. She didn't give up, she never had. She taught all of them to live each moment as if it was the last.

Maureen remembered the day when that petite Latina girl came into her life, her heart, her soul. It was after her Christmas protest in the lot, when they all went to Life. Maureen was surprised when Roger introduced Mimi to all of them. Not only was he outside of the loft, he was with a new girl, of all things. He hardly went out anymore, so seeing him Mooing and wooing with the rest of the guys in her show was a little strange. It got impossibly stranger when she met Mimi. She liked her from the very beginning. By the look on Roger's face, Maureen could tell that he didn't like her quick attachment with Mimi. It was the first time she met Angel, too, and although Collins had known her for no more than several hours, Maureen could tell that his life had changed so much already. He looked so happy and alive; it made her happy as well.

It was almost unavoidable. From that day on Maureen, Mimi and Angel spent a lot of time together, especially during the weekends, when they used to wander around the flea market, looking for cheap jewelry and second hand clothes. Angel always had great fashion tips. She always noticed what other people didn't, and Mimi and Maureen considered her as their fashion goddess.

And then, one day, Angel was gone, and it became the two of them. Their meetings became less frequent, as if they died with Angel. She was the living soul of their threesome, their fire, but soon Maureen and Mimi returned to their old habit, though a little reluctantly at first, as if they were trying to keep Angel's memory by it.

Maureen laughed to herself as she remembered Collins' home coming party several weeks back. She wished Angel could be there with them. She remembered Mimi's song. She sucked, big time, yet she knew it and didn't try to hide it or anything. Courageous. Maureen knew that April could never do such a thing. Unless, of course, she was drunk enough. Alcohol always worked its magic on her.

Although it was clear to everyone that Mimi couldn't carry a tune, it was also very clear that she had other talents. She was a magnificent dancer. Maureen had never seen her dance at the Cat Scratch but they went out dancing couple of times, and she knew that Mimi was probably the most amazing dancer she'd ever seen in her life. Her style was so unique and her movements were so gentle yet sharp and determined. There was no hesitation in Mimi's dance, just as there was no hesitation in her personality. Maureen couldn't do much but envy that special talent of hers. And she felt sorry for Mimi, because she knew that if things would have turned out differently, she could have learned how to dance in the best schools, maybe even in Europe, she could do something about it. She would make a beautiful ballerina, thought Maureen with a smile as she imagined Mimi in a white ballerina's dress. It was so different than the kind of dance she did at the Cat Scratch, but still so Mimi. Not a lot of people knew that side of her; Maureen was one of the few who did.

Her thoughts drifted back to their crazy trip to NYC; the costume shop... bumping into Joanne... Maureen stopped herself from laughing aloud at the memory of the petite Mimi in a blonde curly wig, a kimono and sunglasses, trying to fool Joanne. That was such a great day. She felt that there was such a strong bond between them after that day, as if they really were sisters. Maureen couldn't help but think back about that serious talk they had at the café. _I thought true love lasted forever... like a flame_. She found herself wondering, maybe Mimi was right after all. Maybe there was such a thing as true love. And if there was... was she too late to find it? Did she find it but lost it before she even realized she had it?

And what was eternity, anyway? Nothing lasted forever. Maybe except for memories, she thought as she looked at April's tombstone. Memories and stones like that.

Would memories be all she'd have left from Mimi soon?...

Maureen shook her head to get that unwelcoming thought away. Don't think about the worse, she told herself fiercely. Mimi is stronger than the worse. She's gonna make it, no matter what the doctors may say. They don't know her as you do.

But nothing lasted forever.

The tears came with no warning. Maureen didn't even realize that she was crying until she felt the tears' warm presence against her cheeks. Soon her silent crying turned into uncontrollable sobs, as she sat there in front of April's grave and wept into her hands. It felt as if a part of her soul was slowly tearing apart, as if it was the end of something, only she couldn't tell of what, exactly.

Praying was never her style, but there in the cemetery, it felt like the right thing to do. God, please don't take her away just yet. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate at that thought. Tears were streaming down her face as her whole body was shaking with crying. Please don't take our angel away.

She opened her eyes and gazed at April's grave for a long moment. Maybe it's not God I'm supposed to pray to, she thought. She looked at the tombstone hesitantly. Would she hear her?

"I'm not here because I forgive you, April," she started, her voice shaking slightly yet determined at the same time. It might be silly, but she had to let it out. "Maybe I don't have a right to say such a thing because we're supposed to forgive the dead for their sins, but I just can't forgive you for yours. It might be a terrible thing to do but I don't care, because you didn't care either. I don't pretend to know what you were thinking back then. I keep telling myself that you might have thought that killing yourself would make everything easier. Well, it didn't. Maybe it made things easier for you, but not for the rest of us. And wherever you are, I hope you can see where your death brought us, April.

"I can't speak in behalf of the others but personally I think I could never forgive you for messing up my life. Mark and me are no longer together. Weird, huh? I remember you said once that we'd end up with two kids and a dog somewhere in the suburbs. You used to say that Mark was the only one who could tame me; maybe you were right about that. But we broke up… I dumped him. And it was probably the most stupid thing I did in my life because now I realize that he was my one all along… but it's too late. I lost him, for good, I ruined everything… and I could never forgive you because it was all your fault in the first place, you died and we… we died as well. You killed all of us along with you and you didn't even care. But you know what? If you didn't care enough for me, or Mark, that's fine, but you could have at least thought of Roger before you stuck that damn razor in your arm.

"How could you do this to him, April? How could you be so selfish? How could you leave him alone here to DIE? How is it possible that you were together for so long and you didn't know what he'd do for you? Didn't you know he'd be there for you no matter what? Didn't you know he'd stand by you if you told him the truth? Or did you know and just didn't give a damn?"

She stopped for a moment to catch up her breath, and looked up at the tombstone again. It felt as if the black letters that spelled April's name were staring back at her, silently waiting for her to go on. "Our lives have changed so much, you know?" her tone softened, along with her features, as she thought of Mimi once again. "Mark hates me, Collins found love and lost it, Roger's got himself a new girl. I used to think it was you who sent Mimi into his life, because she's so perfect for him. She's all he'll ever need. She helped him cope with the illness, the pain, life; she's his guardian angel. He's finally happy again. I don't think he'll ever be able to get over everything you've done to him, but he does his best, he's on the right track, and he IS happy. But now… Mimi's sick. We don't even know if she'll pass the night… and Roger cannot lose her as well, April, he cannot go through all that again. He doesn't deserve more pain and loss, he's had enough. April, please, please, if you're there, somewhere, don't let her die… this is the least you owe us, the least you owe him. Don't let our angel die…"

Her sobs grew impossibly stronger, she had to stop speaking. She felt lost and weak and hopeless. How much more loss could they take? First April, then Angel, was Mimi next? Of all people, why did the good ones always had to be taken?...

Someone touched her shoulder gently. Maureen turned around startled. It wasn't completely dark yet, but the cemetery was nearly deserted and the touch came out of nowhere. Her vision was blurred with tears but she could have recognize that tousled blonde hair and thick framed glasses everywhere.

"M-Mark?" her voice came out weak and trembling. Damn it, why couldn't she stop crying?

Mark knelt beside her, looking somewhat concerned. She couldn't blame him. She had never let herself break like that in front of anyone, including herself, except for that one time during April's funeral. And now it seemed to be even worse than that day. "Hi," he said quietly.

"What... how did you..." she stammered. She rummaged through her bag until she finally found a tissue, and sniffed into it. She didn't bother to wipe the tears away. They just kept coming, so there was really no point doing that.

Mark sat on the grass, a bit closer to her now. He rubbed her back gently. "It seems like we had the same idea." He paused for a moment. "Afraid for Mimi?"

The name alone brought fresh tears into Maureen's eyes. She was surprised that she even had any tears left. She nodded. "I just don't want her to..." she couldn't say it. She could only hope Mark would understand. "We've just lost so many of them already, I don't think I can handle another death so soon," she cried desperately. The only thing she wanted was to hold Mark and cry into his shirt, but she didn't dare to move any closer. His hand on her back felt good though.

"That's why I visited Angel," he said. "Why April?"

That's it, deep breaths, she told herself. She calmed down slightly, and the sobbing stopped. She could finally look back at him. He looked nice, she noticed. He wore his dark blue corduroy jacket over a gray and navy blue T-shirt which said _Three...Two...One_ and was shadowed in different proportions, and light blue jeans. His favorite black and white scarf was tightly wrapped around his neck. She looked at him fondly for a moment, then remembered that she hadn't yet answered his question. "I haven't been here ever since she..." she stopped, unable to say it. Could she finally tell him the truth? "I couldn't... I was so angry with her."

Mark looked at her, his expression both surprised and curious. "Why?"

Maureen took a deep breath. It was a painful memory. She wasn't sure she could share it with anyone, especially not with Mark. "I believed... that by doing what she did, April didn't ruin just Roger's life... she ruined our as well... yours and mine... and I hated her for it." She glanced at him carefully. Would he get it?

Mark frowned, as if he didn't agree with what she had just said. "You shouldn't hold her responsible for our lives... we brought that onto ourselves, we let it get to us. You should be praying near Angel's grave." Then he stopped, realizing what he was saying. "Sorry for sounding a bit... bossy," he offered her a faint smile.

Maureen returned that smile. She looked at him hesitantly, then asked carefully, "Will you do something for me?"

Mark looked puzzled. Maureen knew he was trying to guess what she was about to ask, and according to that, to make a decision about what kind of an answer to give her. Eventually he gave up and glanced at her. "What's that?"

She looked straight into his eyes. It matched the color of his jacket perfectly. "Can you just... hold me? For a minute?"

Mark looked uncertain. Then he slowly nodded. "Umm... okay... but this is strictly business," he added quickly, as if he had to make that justification for himself. It made Maureen sad, but that sadness quickly faded away as Mark moved to sit closer until he was right behind her, then he slowly and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her.

It felt awkward at first, and Maureen was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed for throwing herself at him that way. Soon, though, the embrace lost its cold stiffness as Mark started to feel more comfortable doing it. His touch felt more natural, and Maureen let herself melt back into his embrace. She laid her head on the soft fabric of his shirt. "Thanks," she whispered.

Mark held her tight. "She'll be okay. She's not going to die," he promised.

Maureen couldn't help but envy his confidence. "You can't know that," she insisted. "If she dies... God, I don't even want to think about it..."

"Then don't think about it," he replied simply. It sounded so easy. Don't think about it.

How could she not think about it? How could she not be bothered by that death sentence that was hung over Mimi's head?

She was finally beginning to calm down though. It felt good to be held by someone. Mark's heart was beating rhythmically against her ear through the thick layers of his jacket and shirt. His body was warm; his aftershave accompanied the nice aroma of the flowers she laid beside April's grave. Her tears dried away as they sat there, silently watching April's tombstone.

"Maureen?"

"Huh?"

"What did you want to tell me?"

Maureen turned to face him. "What are you talking about?"

"Back at the loft... it felt as if you wanted to say something but couldn't. What was it?"

Back at the loft? What was he... Oh, she suddenly remembered, THAT night when she and Michelle got into that stupid catfight. When Mimi collapsed. When she was so close to tell him that she loved him, but couldn't.

She looked away, then back at Mark. He eyed her curiously from behind his glasses, and Maureen knew he was still waiting for her to answer. "I just... needed to tell you..." she didn't remember moving forward, but suddenly Mark was dangerously closer. So close, that their lips nearly touched. "...That I..." Oh, damn it, I can't! I can't tell him, she thought desperately, then stopped herself. Her mind was racing. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't bring herself to say the words, so instead, she did the only thing she could think of.

She moved closer, closing the small distance that was still left between them, until her lips grazed his with the slightest touch. Maureen Johnson never gives up, she reminded herself as she pressed her lips more fiercely against his and wrapped her arms around his neck.

That act caught Mark completely off guard, she could tell. For a second he remained paralyzed and let her kiss him. But soon, as the initial shock subsided, he was kissing her back. Maureen couldn't tell whether it was Mark's mutual need for that kiss or simply pure instinct but he delved deeper into the kiss. His arms, that were already wrapped around her waist, tightened, pulling her impossibly closer.

Then, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing, Mark broke the kiss. He sat back and looked at her in total confusion. "Maureen...?"

Maureen looked back at him, breathless. "What?"

"That wasn't supposed to happen," he said seriously. Maureen wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"Why?"

He looked stunned by the question alone. "Why?" he repeated, then sighed desperately. "Maureen, we promised... we said we wouldn't hurt each other again."

Her lips curled into the tiniest smile as she said, "You know me long enough to know that I'm having a hard time keeping promises."

"So how can you possibly expect me to believe that you're going to keep this one?"

"I love you." Quick. Honest. Simple. The secret was out.

Mark looked completely stunned, as if he had never expected to hear such a thing, not from her, and definitely not so out of the blue. Through the entire time they were together, he was the one who always told her first that he loved her. She had never said it first. When she answered his "I love you's" it was always lightly, casually, as if it was taken for granted.

Well, except for this time.

Mark stared at her for a long moment, as if he forgot how to speak. If the kiss caught him off guard, hearing these three words nearly caused him a heart attack. Maureen glanced at him carefully, trying to read beyond his puzzled expression, without much success.

Finally, he seemed to find his way with words again. "Maureen... I'm not sure what to say." He said it gently, as if he didn't want to hurt her. He placed his right hand on her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. "We need to talk."

Maureen nodded. They did need to talk. She couldn't argue with that.

Mark got up and held his hand for her, helping her up as well. Maureen took one last look at April's grave before she turned away and followed Mark out of the cemetery.

* * *

**A/N- Don't you just LOVE cliffhangers?…**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty Three**

She loved him. But did she really mean it? Did she actually love him or was she just desperate for love, to be loved, as the whole world was? Thinking back, she had never said she loved him first. He was always the one responsible to say it first, and sometimes he would say it numerous times just to hear her echo it back. But why, how, and… what on earth was he suppose to do? He had just sworn off girls and she, as far as he knew, was a lesbian. Can humankind defy all natural laws of Mother Nature that associated with true love? Was that totally possible?

Hmm… Note to self: sci-fi/romance movie involving aliens falling in love with vampire werewolves.

They went to a suburban café place, and the waiter sat them in half-moon booth. Mark sat on one end while Maureen sat on the other. They didn't talk much on the way over there, a few glances at each other, two or three words now and again. Mark just couldn't stop thinking about what he should do. All these questions were reeling in his head. Did she really love him? What made her realize this sudden phenomenon? Did he love her? He would soon find out. The waiter placed their drinks on the table.

Mark came to realize that he didn't feel nervous at all. He just continued to eye her through his spectacles hoping to decipher the glazed codes in and around her pupils. He couldn't figure out if she meant it. Has it been that long that he had forgotten what Maureen was like? Or has she really changed? Maureen picked up her mug of hot chocolate and sipped it. Mark took his own drink, and waited for her to speak. She said nothing.

"So… start from the beginning," said Mark.

"Wait, first tell me something," she said. "Is this serious? You and Michelle? Because I don't want to ruin this for you. I don't want to-"

"I've already said that we're over," said Mark clearly. "I meant it, in the cab. She's too much like them."

"Them?"

"My parents." He didn't want to have to explain the long story about their unexpected visit. Besides this wasn't about him this time. It was about her, and Mark wanted to know what was going on in her mind. "Look, go on with your story. This isn't about me."

"What do you want me to say? Where do I start?" she asked.

"Well when did you know...?" he wanted to finish the question with "that you loved me" but found himself too afraid to say it. "I mean it's strange… the Joanne thing…"

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean the 'Joanne thing'?"

What do you think? Mark sighed. "You, being a lesbian. I mean, are you straight or what? I don't know if I can get used to the feeling when you're hanging with one of your friends and all you can think about is licking whip cream off one of them… although Roger said that wasn't such a bad thought." Mark shook his head. "I'm not into labels… but I can't help but think if that was some sort of… phase."

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I thought about that a lot and I don't know. But you know me, I'm always up to try new things, and at the time I thought Joanne was right for me. You were never there for me, so I thought she would do."

Mark's heart broke. He screwed up his face so she wouldn't notice. "Never there?"

"Right after April died. That's why I said I was angry with her so much. Roger was devastated by all that and you… you tried to be the best friend you could be so you stood with him… you were always there for him. And then there was a point where it felt as if you weren't there, like there was nothing between us, like I was nothing. Maybe it's childish, and I have nothing against Roger, but I was your girlfriend Mark, and April's death hurt me just as much as Roger. I needed attention and you weren't there, so I started looking for this attention at other places."

Mark stared at her, stunned. He never knew that she felt this way. He didn't mean to ignore her when April died, it just happened. Roger never lost anyone so important to him, and Mark hated seeing him down like that. He remembered sharing his best friend's pain- what if that had happened to him, Mark recalled, he knew Roger would stay beside him if Maureen took April's place. His agony was unbearable to watch. So Mark did what he could for him, but he just assumed Maureen would understand. He thought that she would wait for him. God, how could he be so selfish?

"I… I didn't know. Maureen… she was his girlfriend. I thought they were going to get married. You know how much he hurt… but why didn't you ever tell me?" He had this desperate look in eyes. He would have made it better if she had just said something.

"When could I tell you that?" she asked. "You were always busy attending Roger, or busy with your work. Look Mark, I don't blame you, I guess I would do the same for my best friend. God knows, I did my best for Collins when Angel died… and I understand that April was Roger's girlfriend, but I was yours," she looked at him urgently, "and that hurt me."

Mark looked at her sorrowfully. He had never seen her so wounded before. It was always the other way around. So this is what it must be like in Maureen's shoes. He didn't feel good at all. Did she encounter the same emotions when the tables were turned? If she did, he embraced how much she cared. But he still didn't know. "The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. You have to tell me these things Maureen. I was worried about Roger and all the shit that was going on- I couldn't have known. You should have told me… then maybe this would have never happened."

"Maybe… but I don't believe that sinking into the past is a good thing. No day but today, remember?" She smiled slowly at that philosophy. "Anyway, I think it really struck me that day... when I bumped into Joanne and her new lover… some boring lawyer, and I felt absolutely nothing. It didn't even hurt. But then later that day… I saw you kiss Michelle in our building… and that hurt like hell. I tried not to think about it, I tried to deny it, and then last week I suddenly realized."

"You realized…" He didn't know if he meant that as a question or a statement. But Mark couldn't help but think that Maureen was secretly in love with him for a week. It was almost unbearable, not in the sense that there was nothing more that he had ever wanted before (because it was all he used to think about), but that she actually felt something. After all this time of convincing himself that there was nothing more between them, the cycle started all over again. But this time was different... right? She loved him. But he wasn't sure if he felt anything back. "I'm sorry… it's just hard to believe."

"Well, there's only one thing left to find out."

Mark looked at her curiously. "What's that?"

"Will you give me a second chance? I'll be good, I promise. I will never ever do anything to hurt you, I will never disappear in the middle of the night, I will never flirt with strangers in a bar… damnit, I won't even GO into a bar-"

"Maureen wait." Mark laughed a bit, and shook his head. It was happening way too fast and he wasn't sure if he could keep up. She really wanted to be with him. He could hear it. The shoe really was on the other foot. He was the one who use to beg her for things, but now she... it was laughable. But something was definitely different. Maureen, I hear you, he thought to himself, I hear it. The disparity in her voice, the passion. But how could he trust her again? He was afraid that she was setting him up for the same trap he fell for the first time. He was sick of promises because they could always be broken. But… it was one of the strongest bonds of trust he'd ever known. He looked at her. "Don't make these promises. You don't know. You can't help yourself. But… I'm not sure…" He bowed his head down. He was so confused, nothing seemed logical in this damn world.

There was a bit of silence for a while. "Why?" she whispered.

He wasn't sure what to say, how to answer, so he just talked. It was too difficult to sort out his thoughts so quickly, and he felt that he just needed to let his emotions out as well. "Every single day I hoped for you to come back to me. I've always held on to something of yours and that gave me something to believe in… then I finally get over you, and you come back to me… do you know how that makes me feel?"

"Look, Mark, I'm sorry if I… oh just forget it, I shouldn't have said anything." She quickly took some money out of her purse and put in on the table, and began to leave. Mark's heart raced. What was this feeling that was coming back? Why did he want to care so much? Could you be so stupid, Cohen, to let her go again?

"Where are you going?" asked Mark.

"I don't know. Out of here. I'm too embarrassed to stay here."

Welcome to the club. "Maureen, sit down."

"Why? I'm not used to getting rejected, Mark, and I'm really not in the mood for it right now."

Mark wondered why she was running away all of a sudden. He withstood more humiliation than this! Something was obviously making her vulnerable because she had been doing that lately- here, at the club. What was making her... change? Besides, she was the one who brought up this subject. He wouldn't let her leave until he knew everything. "Maureen, you're the one who started this. Don't you dare leave this table. You started it, you finish it."

She looked at him hesitantly then sat down, a sort of funny expression on her face, as if she was trying not to smile. This surprised Mark a bit. "Okay, NOW you're bossy. I can't finish it. It's up to you."

"Up to me? Maureen this isn't easy. I just can't take you back and expect everything to be fine again. How do I know? How do I know that I have your trust?"

She left her seat and sat next to him. Mark scooted a bit into the booth and looked at her, expecting an answer. Instead, she laid a kiss on him, and he didn't know how to react.

"There… didn't you feel it?" she asked after she pulled away.

The kiss caught him off guard. Her warm touch brought back so many memories of them together. Of them being happy together. She really wanted this, he could feel it. Although their lips were apart, he could still feel hers on his. He remembered loving that. "Yeah… I did," he said. "I don't know… it may have been because you were my first love, though. Maureen… my first love." He had to smile. Everything came rushing back and he welcomed it gratefully. He hated to be so cliche, but deep down, he probably still cared about her.

"I want to ask you something," she said a bit more seriously. "It's none of my business but I'll ask it anyway."

Mark smirked. She had that jealous sort of tone suddenly. He kind of guessed what she might have been pondering. "Go. Ask."

"Did you sleep with her?"

He laughed. He was right. "No… no, she's too pure."

She burst into laughter. "Too pure? Look who's talking." She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. "I think someone spoilt your innocent mind, Marky…"

"I wonder who…?" He placed a hand on her face, and pulled her in for a kiss. For a moment, it didn't feel like he was in his own body. Their lips caressed one another. This felt right. Why it felt right he didn't know. Perhaps he didn't want to know. Perhaps the mystery of true love kept the flame alive. Mark began to move the kiss more passionately. He had figured it out now. The trick was keeping the flame burning. That's the game. That's the eternal flame.

He pulled her closer, and she laid one leg over his lap. He pressed his forehead against hers. "This is so wrong," he said. He knew it was. All his beliefs that he thought he wanted to pursue flew out the window. Everything was different now… better, maybe.

"Hmm… doesn't feel wrong to me," she said and kissed him again, but pulled away suddenly. "Actually, it does… wanna go somewhere a bit more… private?"

A few people were starting to stare and one person even leaned forward to get a better view. Damn them, but he tried to focus on Maureen. He gave her a mischievous look. It was like nothing changed, like they were picking up where they last left off. But that didn't seem right. He didn't want to feel any guilt or worry about this. He wanted to have a clean, long-lasting relationship. No lies. He didn't want to be the puppy of Maureen Johnson. Someone, give me a sign, he thought madly, that Maureen has really changed for the better. He didn't want to be Mr. Gullible. What about his pride?

"This is crazy," said Mark concerned. "We can't do this. I have my dignity. I'm not puddy."

"Okay." She got off his lap. "Then I'm gone." She grabbed her bag and started to leave again.

Mark panicked. "NO! Why do you do that?" He pulled her back down to his lap. She drives me mad, he thought wildly. He loved the rush, he loved this feeling.

She raised an amused eyebrow. "Marky… you did learn something from me after all, huh? I'm feeling very proud of myself…" She squealed, and Mark laughed.

"You're too irresistible." God, he meant that. He brought her chin toward him and kissed her again. "Man, I'm going to regret this in the morning."

"As long as you remember it this time." She smiled. "So umm… your place or mine?" She pulled him up to a standing position.

Mark smiled and felt a new confidence. "Mine." He added, "I'm afraid of Collins." He kissed her again. He couldn't help it. He just felt so wonderful, being back with her. They started to make their way through the café. "Lord, when he sees us together…"

She stopped. "Together? Are we together?" She sounded like an excited little girl who had just gotten a Barbie doll for her birthday. "You're giving me a second chance?"

"That all depends…." said Mark. He had just gotten the greatest idea, and would be thanking himself in the mirror the next morning.

"On what?" she asked.

"On how tonight goes…" he said slyly. He tried to plan out a blueprint of his loft in his mind. He knew exactly how he wanted this night to end.

She flashed him one of her seductive smiles. "Why don't we go and check it out then?"

He kissed her hard, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Okay… but it involves doing me a favor…"

"What?"

---------------

They arrived at Mark's building and couldn't keep their hands off one another. A crowbar couldn't tear them apart, and even if that were to be the case, Mark wouldn't let her go. Ever. He loved her so much. They kissed passionately, trying to make their way up the stairs. Now and then Mark would pin her to the wall and just caress her every bit of skin. She would always be the one to steer them back into the right direction.

It took them about fifteen minutes but they finally approached Mark's door. He pressed her against it and delved deeper into the kiss. He let his hands explore her body. She brought him closer.

"Mark…" she said breathlessly. "Shouldn't we… go inside?"

Mark didn't pause or anything but tried to unlock the door as best as he could. He finally got it to open and they stumbled into the loft. Mark pried himself away from her and locked the door. He quickly enveloped his arms around her, pressing his forehead against hers. He didn't want a minute to pass by without holding her.

"So what's this favor you wanted?" she asked with a dark tone in her voice. She was under his control for now, but he didn't know for how long. He may have had her for a little while, but the Maureen Johnson he always knew somehow found a way to take control in the end. At least for the time being… he could have his fun, and if all went well… who knows, he thought naughtily.

They entered his living room, Mark leading her by the hand. The place was a mess, but they were finally alone. No leering eyes, no peeping Toms. It was just the two of them. He pulled her arm and placed it around his neck, and she smiled. She began to wrap both her arms around him and Mark nibbled on her neck. She kissed him, and he savored her sweet taste. She bit his lip softly, and he pulled her even closer, their bodies against one another. She started to slip her hands beneath his shirt, her fingers drifting inside his jeans.

"Wait," said Mark pulling away unwillingly. He had almost forgotten about the favor. She kept persisting, her hands touching every bit of flesh under his clothes. Mark gently held her hands so they wouldn't go any further. She stopped reluctantly, and gave him a slightly irritated look, but smiled.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Shh…." He said and laid a soft kiss upon her hand before taking it and leading her into the bedroom. As he gazed at her, she grinned mischievously. He guided her to the doorway of his bedroom and leaned her against the door frame. He didn't kiss her but cornered her with both hands, and stared into her sinisterly. She stared back with the same gleam in her eyes, but slowly she began to feel his tension. She cowered back a bit, bashfully, and tried to look into his eyes. A small grin curled upon her lips and she slowly took off his glasses. She slid an arm of his eyeglasses between her teeth and bit into it sexily, innocently. His heart melted, and he grinned.

"Go inside and get comfortable. But remember the favor." He lowered his voice a bit, "I've got some work for you to do."

"Work?" she asked sort of surprised, but he gave her a look and she obliged. She winked at him before getting into the bedroom, and Mark beamed at her for a moment. He then walked to the hallway closet and opened it. He remembered his sister bringing old clothes for costumes he could use, and he also remembered scrounging through them before Maureen came over that night, with his camera.

Mark pulled the box out and carried it into the bedroom. He froze. Maureen stared at him evilly, lying on her side half-naked on his bed. Man, she was a goddess, her smooth, white skin rubbing against his tan-colored blankets, her brown hair curling softly along the form of her breasts, gently wrapped in a lavender bra. He couldn't help but notice that her bra and panty were a bit laced, and he smiled. What was he suppose to be doing? Oh yeah.

"I'm glad you're comfortable," he said setting the box in a corner.

She smiled. "Hmm… what are you doing?"

"I'm going to take some pictures of you," he said casually. He pulled out his 35mm camera from his closet, and snapped the flash on. "Do you mind changing for me?" He nodded to the box.

"You want me to change?" she asked.

Not really... "Tempting… but yes," he said. She pouted a bit, but climbed out of bed, and sauntered over to the box. Mark watched her as her slender legs walked her over to the corner and it drove him absolutely nuts. Why did everything she did have to happen in slow motion?

"What do you want me to wear?" she said bending down. Mark couldn't help but stare at her laced panty swathing over her backside, her hair drooping over her face. Mark snapped out of it and responded.

"There's a beige trench coat in there that belonged to my sister. And I think I saw a hat, a fedora, to match there somewhere. I think it belonged to my brother-in-law." Mark cleaned the lenses on his camera and focused it.

"It's kinda short," she said holding up the coat.

"She bought it when she was 15."

Maureen hung the coat around her arm and hunted for the hat. Mark watched her carefully as she found it and observed it for few seconds. She set the hat on her head. It was kind of loose on her, but it wasn't too bad.

"Pants, shirt?" she asked.

Mark smirked. "What are you talking about?" He looked at her teasingly, and she smiled, getting the hint. She slipped into the coat, which was also kind of loose on her but the length only went below her thigh. He smiled as she buttoned up.

"Is this how it's supposed to look?" she asked. He walked over to her and tightened the felt belt around her coat. He folded her collar out a bit, exposing a bit more of her. Taking her hand, he led her to the bed and she crawled on. She sat against the backboard of his bed, sitting on one leg. He observed her for a minute then came over to her again and fixed her hat. He tilted it to the side over one eye, and slanted her face down, her eyes leering at him waywardly.

"Beautiful," he said and clicked on a lamp. He turned off the main lights, and adjusted his camera to the right setting. Then, as if it came naturally, as if there was no stopping him, he clicked on. He must have taken a dozen pictures, without stopping to take a breath. He moved around, kept shooting, and she followed his gaze, her body moving along with him.

Pretty soon they were laughing and playing with each other as if they were little kids. But she did everything he told her to do. He watched as she changed into one of the nightgowns in the box. It was a river blue nightgown, satin, that split on both sides. It revealed much of her breasts, bringing it up slightly. Mark took some more pictures. He figured these would be his favorite.

"You know this is kind of kinky," commented Maureen as Mark changed film.

"I know," he said. "But I'm not selling them."

"I don't mean that," she said. "I mean it's kind of kinky that you got me wearing your sister's lingerie."

He grinned and walked over to the edge of the bed. She inched her way to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. She started fiddling with his shirt, slowly pulling it off. He leaned forward as she leisurely pulled him on top of her. His palm slid onto her leg, trailing up to her thigh and to her waist underneath the gown. She pulled him closer, urging him to go further. Mark grabbed the sheets with his other hand, grasping them, trying to resist.

"One more shot," he said pulling away breathlessly.

"Why?"

"One more." He said and stood up. He turned away pretending to play with his camera, but he was really trying to get his mind back on track. Okay Cohen, focus, you can get her under your control, he thought frenziedly. He told her to put on a white, collared dress shirt. It was men's size but she looked glamorous in it. He loved her in her underwear. God, he found that so attractive. He told her to only button it halfway. She had trouble with a few of the buttons. Chuckling a bit, he came over to her to help. He wrapped his arms around her and buttoned one, while he nibbled on her neck. He buttoned the rest halfway, and Maureen rubbed his arms soothingly. He moved his hands around her body, hugging her tighter. He steadily cupped her breasts, and kissed her from the side, bringing her nearer.

When he finally steered his mind back on the right train of thought, he pulled away and took a black tie from the box. He tied it freely around her collar so it wouldn't tighten around her. It drooped along her chest, and she laid back down. He took some more pictures.

Click. Last shot. He turned off his camera and set it on the table, taking off the flash and putting it in its pack.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"Yup."

"What now?"

"Up to you," he said. His back was turn to her and he could only hear her husky voice ringing in his ear, making his heart turn. Suddenly, he felt his neck wrapped around by something. Maureen had put the tie around his neck and turned him around. He smiled at her.

"You dominatrix," he remarked.

"Maybe some other night," she said and tugged on it softly, directing him towards the bed. She took off the tie and pushed him gently onto the bed, and climbed on top of him. She kissed him passionately and Mark couldn't help but sink into her kiss, letting her take hold of him. Mark scooted up a bit so that they would occupy the whole bed, and she looked at him wickedly. She skulked between his legs and kissed his chest softly. Mark scrunched his brow, trying not to fall too deep into her touch. She made her way down his body to where his pants were. She quickly undid the button and opened his jeans slightly. She tickled his skin with her tongue near down his stomach. She bit into the zipper and pulled it down with her teeth. Mark felt a sudden urge through his body.

She pulled down his pants rapidly, and continued to have her way. She would bite his boxers a few times, teasing him endlessly. Finally, she almost tried pulling them off again with her teeth.

"Maureen," he muttered. She laughed a little and brought herself back to him, her face looking directly over his.

"I love you," she whispered, looking into his eyes.

Mark kissed her softly, but then it became more fervent. He slowly turned her over so that he was on top. He held her close, his mouth near her ear.

"Do as I say?" he asked seriously. He meant it more as a statement, but it slipped out as a question.

"Hmmm…" she said doubtfully. She closed her eyes. Mark was determined to take hold. He caressed her with his mouth along her neck, and groped her flesh as tenderly as possible. She moaned. She wanted him. He knew that there was nothing in the world that would keep her away from him. She was finally his after all these years of torture, of hiding, of depression.

"I'll never hurt you," he swore to her. She just looked at him sincerely, with a worried brow. She shook her head slightly and kissed him eagerly. He returned the kiss as he began to slip off her panty. She helped, kicking it off. She kept her arms around his neck as he edged his way down to her chest. He ripped the shirt off, tearing a few buttons, and tossed it aside. She slid her bra off, and Mark gently stroked her breasts with his tongue. Maureen grasped onto his skin, and dug her fingers into shoulders. He sucked on her nipples a bit and he heard her moan a bit more. He fondled with her flesh before bringing his face to hers.

"Maureen…" he wanted to say more, but instead she rubbed her leg against his sides, sliding his boxers down. He thrust himself inside her and she gasped. He explored deeper into her, moving up and down, holding her hand gently.

"Maureen-"

"Don't…" she breathed, her eyes shut. "Stop."

Mark tried to calm his tension. He slowly moved deeper in her, but questioned her say. "Stop?"

"No…" she whispered. She took a few breaths.

"No?" Mark repeated. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No… no, don't stop," she finally said, laughing a bit. "That's what I meant."

Mark grinned, and rocked back and forth as she groaned softly. She grabbed onto his shoulders, pleading for him to go on. He went in deeper and felt her tightening. He told her to relax, and she tried to loosen. He bit onto her lip, moving in and out, teasing her a bit. He did it slowly now, pulling himself out slightly.

"Don't Mark," she panted. "Please don't…"

Mark paused for a minute to watch her long for more. He could see it in her expression; he could hear it through her moans. For once, it seemed that she desired for him more than he wanted her. But he knew that as long as he lived, she would never love him to the amount he felt about her. She had changed his life, revealed a side of him he couldn't in front of other girls. She loved him. That's all he could ever ask for. The torrid passion didn't end there, but only had begun as Mark uttered those four words.

"Maureen, I love you."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N- As always, thank you guys for your amazing reviews. The following chapter is dedicated to Rent movie premiere which is, finally, TODAY! **

**Chapter Twenty Four**

_Maureen, I love you._

Though he said it hours ago, and repeated it so many times ever since, the words were still whirling in her mind as she snuggled closer to his chest and drifted into blissful dreamless slumber. She felt warm and protected, and these four words were like the sweetest lullaby.

But then, at some point, her eyes snapped open when a sudden chill replaced the warmth. By the light that was streaming into the room from the half opened curtains, she could realize it was morning, but something was missing… Mark's arms were no longer wrapped around her waist. His body was no longer spooned against hers.

An involuntary wave of panic washed over her. Did he wake up, realized they made a mistake and ran away before she'd wake up? But he had no reason to do that, it was his own apartment, she reminded herself as she stretched.

Someone coughed softly at the other end of the bed and Maureen couldn't help but smile with great relief as she rolled on her back and then to her side, propping herself on one elbow.

Mark was there all right, she thought, suddenly feeling silly for even suspecting otherwise. He must have been awake for some time now, for he had his boxers and glasses on, he was shaved and his hair was a bit damp. He didn't even seem to notice that she was awake and watching him intently. He was putting a new reel in his projector. He looked so concentrated at what he was doing, the last thing Maureen wanted to do was to startle him, so she said nothing. The screen that was usually in the living room was moved into the bedroom, and it was now placed in front of the bed, closer to Mark's side. A new smile found its way to Maureen's lips. Silly Mark, she thought fondly. He would rather do editing first thing in the morning than steal a couple more minutes of peace and quiet in bed. Yet, she loved him nonetheless.

He had changed so much; she didn't even realize that he had, up until the previous night. Sure, he was still the same sweet Mark Cohen, but his self-confidence had somehow increased. She guessed she should have realized that on that night when he dumped Michelle. And as if that wasn't enough, the previous night was a definite proof of that change in him. For the first time Mark seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and Maureen let him take control because she felt he was finally ready for it. Not being in control was difficult for her, though, especially in Mark's case, where she had always been the more experienced one. Plus, she hated to let other people have control over her. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, two things she never ever let herself to be in front of other people, men and women alike. But Mark wasn't like other people, and she didn't regret letting him do things his way for once. It was kind of different. Different in a good sense, that is. He was gentle, careful, attentive, he knew exactly what she wanted without her having to say anything. It was as if he knew it by instinct. He gave her everything, all he had, and Maureen gave him all her trust in return. He was the only one she was willing to lose her control to. And that, she finally came to realize, was true love.

Finally, the reel was in place and the film started running. Maureen watched Mark, who was watching the screen. A black light was flickering on the screen, and then changed a blurry picture with muffled sounds. It was as if Mark didn't know that the camera was on at the moment onscreen.

"Mark… Mark, leave the damn camera alone and just hear me out!" Maureen tensed as she recognized her own voice, still somewhat muffled but definitely hers. What the hell-

"What's there to hear? You cheated on me, that's enough." Judging by his sharp intake of breath, Mark seemed to recognize the film the second she did. Oh shit, it can't be THAT night…

Suddenly the picture cleared. It was definitely that night. The night she dumped him. Maureen could see herself onscreen now. She remembered that night so clearly, as if it all happened yesterday. Mark's image was still blurry; he was standing closer to the camera, blocking half of the frame, fiddling with its buttons. He was obviously unaware of the fact that the camera was on and film of it was rolling.

Onscreen Maureen sighed. "Look, it wasn't like that! Just let me explain, okay?" She was coming closer, touching Mark's shoulder. He shook her hand away, not aggressively but fiercely enough to let her know that he was angry. He finally backed away a bit, getting into frame as well. Now both of them were clearly visible in front of the camera, standing in the middle of the loft. It was already decorated for Christmas, though it was nearly a month away. Maureen remembered how she made the guys put on all the Christmas decoration that weekend, though Mark never celebrated Christmas, being Jewish, and Roger wasn't in the mood for anything but being locked in his room with his fender.

"Fine, but I can't see how you can hurt me anymore," said onscreen Mark.

Maureen glanced at Mark. He didn't remove his gaze from the screen. He looked hypnotized. She didn't dare move.

The film continued. "Do you remember that night over a month ago when we had that fight… when I came home the next morning? And we never talked about it afterwards acting as if nothing happened? Well, something did happen to me that night, Mark, I found out who I was! I mean, who I REALLY was!"

Onscreen Mark stared at her, puzzled. "Who… who you were? I don't understand… you didn't… sleep with anyone, did you Maureen? Please tell me you didn't sleep with anyone!" he sounded as if he was about to cry. Maureen's heart was breaking as she watched his reaction, and her nearly apathetic reply.

"Look, Mark, I hate doing this to you, but… I can't go on like this."

He looked even more confused. "What do you mean? I've never hurt you."

"No, you didn't, but I… I feel… that it's just not right. I'm not even sure if it ever was. We're just too different, Mark, that's it. I feel like I'm ready to move on." How could she even think of telling him that? How could she miss that broken expression on his face when she did?

"Move on? Maureen… I'm not a toy you can play with and move on when you think you're ready to. God, Maureen, what did you think of us?"

Maureen was horrified. She looked so calm in that film, as if Mark's obvious pain just passed through her.

"All I'm saying… is that I'm not sure it was meant to be. You're a sweet guy, Mark, but you're just not the right one… for me. Can you at least try to understand that?"

"Understand?" repeated Mark, frustrated. "This has been the most important relationship for me, Maureen! You meant everything to me! And all you did was fool around with… with another man!" Maureen heard Mark snort as he heard that. She knew he thought about Joanne, about the irony in it, now that he knew the truth. "What, is he better looking than me? Stronger? Mr. America or whatever?"

She didn't answer, as if she didn't know how to break the truth to him.

"You really are the actress. You made me believe that you loved me, I… that really hurts me, Maureen!"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, but didn't sound as if she meant it. How could she be so insensitive?

"I love you!" Mark yelled desperately, grabbing her shoulders, making her face him. "HE doesn't love you!"

"YES she does!" she yelled back, shaking his hands away. Then, when she realized what she was saying, she covered her mouth with her hand, looking fretfully at him, hoping he didn't get it.

It was too late.

Only now, as she watched it, Maureen could detect the million emotions that crossed Mark's face as her words quickly sank in. His expression was a mixture of dismay, confusion and shock. "W-what?" he asked weakly, dropping himself on the couch. He looked at her carefully as she sighed and sat next to him, keeping her distance.

"Her name's Joanne, I met her that night. She's a lawyer. I… I think I'm in love with her." She dared to look at him. He didn't look back. He kept staring at his jeans, as if it was the most interesting thing on the planet. "I'm sorry, Mark. I really am, but that's the way it is. I can't do it anymore. I can't live in a lie. That's not who I am. I have to leave."

Mark flipped the switch on the projector and stopped the film. He kept staring at the screen though it showed no picture. Since he sat with his back turned to her, Maureen couldn't even read his expression. Now that he watched it, did it make him upset? Or angry? Would he regret taking her back? Would he have second thoughts after watching this?

There was only one way to find out, she told herself as she sat up and pulled the blanket tighter around her. Mark didn't seem to notice her slight movement. Slowly, carefully, she moved closer to him and snaked her arms around his waist. "Gee, Mark, I hope you don't have last night on tape as well…" she whispered huskily in his ear and planted a small kiss on his shoulder.

That seemed to startle him, but he kept his gaze fixated on the screen when he said, "I would have, but I didn't have any film left." He wasn't looking at her, yet by the sound of his voice, Maureen knew he was smiling, and it calmed her down a little. At least he wasn't upset.

He turned to face her and kissed her gently. He tasted like candy apple toothpaste.

"Morning…" she murmured once their lips parted, smiling against his lips.

"Good morning," he smiled back, brushing away strands of her hair. "I hope that didn't wake you."

"No, I… thought you were gone and I…" her voice trailed off. Suddenly she was embarrassed by that panic she felt earlier. She looked away.

Mark touched her cheek, making her face him. Their eyes met before he leaned to kiss her again. "It's okay," he said soothingly, pressing his forehead against hers. "It's all in the past, it doesn't bother me anymore."

How could he act so cool about it? Was it possible that it didn't bother him, not even a little? He sounded as if he meant it, but did he, really? "Well, it bothers ME," said Maureen honestly, her tone soft yet determined. She looked at him seriously. "I didn't mean to just throw it in your face like that," she gestured at the now blank screen. "I wanted to tell you but I've never intended to hurt you… I guess I've never really thought of how hurt you'd be by that."

Mark placed his hand on her cheek again and looked into her eyes. "You don't need to apologize."

Maureen placed her hand over his. "Yes, I do," she insisted.

Mark sighed, as if he knew there was no point argue about it with her. "Look, you're right, it did hurt me. But I don't care about that anymore. I just want you to know that no matter what you go through, whatever upsets you, you can always tell me. I'll always be there to make you feel better, I'll always be there to protect you."

Maureen smiled. A tear slipped down her cheek but Mark caught it and gently wiped it away with his finger. "I love you," she whispered. It felt so real, so right. And it made him smile so beautifully, she had to say it again. "I do love you. Don't you ever doubt that, okay?"

Mark's smile got impossibly wider as he pulled her into his arms. "I won't. I love you too. I've always loved you," he kissed her forehead. "Now I know we're going to be okay."

"We will," she promised, and meant it with all her heart. She leaned her head on his chest. "You know what will make me feel better right now?"

She felt him smile against the crown of her head. "What?"

"Breakfast. I'm starving." She pulled away from their embrace, far enough so she could look at him, but close enough so that her lips nearly touched his. Almost. She kept speaking in a low, seductive tone. "Will you start on breakfast while I take a shower?"

It didn't seem like he was paying attention. His eyes seemed focused on the movement of her lips. At first Maureen thought he didn't even hear her. Then he murmured "Yeah… anything…" as if he was taken under a spell. "Anything you'd like?" he added.

"Hmmm… surprise me."

"Okay," he said smiling. "Go take your shower. I'll tell you when breakfast is ready." Then he stopped and looked at her jokingly. "I hope I'm not being too bossy…"

That made Maureen laugh. "Marky, you couldn't be bossy even if you really wanted to."

Mark seemed to be amused by her reply. He raised one eyebrow. "So I suppose I wasn't bossy at the club?" he asked lightly.

"When you nearly killed me with that cable you threw on my face?"

"You mean when YOU nearly killed ME with a chair," he shot back.

Maureen laughed. That was only fair. She shook her head. "Yes, okay, except for THAT day…" she moved closer again. "But you are absolutely and totally forgiven for it…" she leaned forward to kiss him when a different memory from that day flashed through her mind. She backed away. "Actually, you're not… you weren't there that night," she couldn't help sounding a bit accusing. She knew she had no right to blame him. He had no reason to be there that night, not after everything that happened earlier that morning. They weren't together, he owed her nothing. But still… she needed him there.

Mark looked confused. Whether it was by what she had just said or by her haste movement away from him, she wasn't sure. "That night?" he repeated. He moved closer to place a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. His tone softened. "You can tell me anything, remember?"

Maureen raised her eyes to face him. "The night of my gig at Purple Sky," she explained, slightly embarrassed. She still couldn't believe she let herself fall apart the way she did. "I didn't see you there and I… well, I freaked out. I couldn't remember what I was doing there, I got completely panicked. It was so humiliating, I wanted to die…"

The end of her sentence was cut off as Mark wrapped his arms around her and rocked her soothingly back and forth, holding her tight. "I was there… Don't worry, I was there. I saw everything…" he looked at her, his eyes concerned. "Were you okay?"

Maureen didn't even hear his last question. Her heart was racing. He was there? He couldn't have been, she would have known if he was, Collins would have known… She stared at him for a moment. "What do you mean you were there?"

Mark hesitated, as if he wasn't sure what to say or how to start. "I… I don't know what made me do it," he said eventually. "Collins asked me to keep an eye on the wiring, but to tell you the truth, I couldn't stop thinking about you. All I could think about was when we first met," he finished, looking at her with a small smile.

Maureen could read everything in his eyes. Honesty, devotion, pure love. It made her smile too. She laughed softly. "That's what happened to me, too. I kept imagining us sitting there, and I couldn't stop thinking about you too and I finally realized… that I had to tell you…" the tears came out of nowhere. "Oh, damnit!" she laughed and raised one hand to her face to wipe the tears away.

Mark caught her hand halfway and took it gently in his, slowly lacing his fingers with hers. He leaned to kiss her softly. She could taste the saltiness of her own tears in that kiss. "I love you."

Maureen smiled and pressed her forehead against Mark's. "I love you, too."

"We better get ready. We need to go back-" he said gently yet reluctantly, as if hating to ruin the moment.

Maureen glanced at the alarm clock. 8:25 a.m. They needed to go back to the hospital, Collins was there alone for too long. It looked like forever had passed since he sent her home the previous day. "Yeah, I guess we should…" she looked around her, then back at Mark, laughing softly. "Well, if you'll find me something to wear I can get out of here."

Mark looked around as well. He had mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he turned to face her again. "Where the hell did our clothes go?" he looked through the sheets, his hand brushing against her leg once in a while, tickling her but keeping a straight face as if he didn't mean it.

"Stop it," she warned him, giggling, "Or we'll never leave this bed…"

"Is this a promise, Miss Johnson?" Mark shot back as he bent to take a look under his bed. He smirked, then pulled something out of there and tossed it at her direction with a huge smile. "Well, you seem to like this shirt," he laughed. "Put it on."

Maureen did as she was told, pulling the blue flannel shirt over her head. Then she looked at Mark, amused. "How the hell did it get down there?"

Mark returned her amused smile and shook his head. "You don't want to know." He got up, found a white T-shirt on the floor and put it on. "I'm gonna get some breakfast on the table."

Maureen found herself staring at him with a silly grin on her face, then she realized he was still waiting for her reply. She nodded her agreement. "I'll be out as soon as I can," she promised. Mark nodded and was about to turn and leave. "Hey Mark, wait!" she launched herself out of bed.

Mark turned to face her again, somewhat puzzled. "What?"

Maureen grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back to her for another kiss. It took him by surprise but soon he was kissing her back. His arms encircled her waist. His grip around her tightened as he deepened the kiss. She giggled into the kiss and tried to lead him back to his bed. He pulled away quite reluctantly, curled a strand of hair around his finger and gave her a weak smile. "You're irresistible, but we better cut it off now if we want to get back to the hospital this morning."

Maureen nodded, as reluctant as he was. Then she tousled his hair a bit and walked pass him towards the bathroom.

------------

They left the loft nearly an hour later. The subway was as packed as always at that hour. Maureen managed to take a hold on a rail, and Mark held on to Maureen. He kept his arms tight around her waist, pulling her closer and whispering things in her ear to make her giggle. Maureen was well aware of the non-approving glances that were sent in their direction by couple of old ladies and several serious looking businessmen in dark expensive suits, but she could care less. She leaned back closer to Mark's chest and looked up at him. He didn't even seem to notice all these people around them. He looked at her so lovingly, as if they were the only people on the train. There was that small cute smile that was plastered on his face from the moment he turned to face her that morning, and Maureen didn't need a mirror to know she was probably wearing the same blissful expression.

They held hands as they left the subway, as if they couldn't stay apart from one another even for a second. They walked the small distance to the hospital, talking quietly, ignoring everyone else.

Maureen felt as if years had passed since the last time she had been there, when the elevator stopped on the third floor, where Mimi's room was. She clang to Mark as they exited the elevator, turned left in the hall and entered the waiting room area.

Collins sat there on a plastic chair, reading the morning paper. He stood up the moment he noticed them, a huge smile forming on his face. "There you guys are! I've got great news- Mimi's recovering, she'll be just fine!" he got closer, and sighed happily. "Praise the Lord, HALLELUJAH!" then he stopped abruptly, suddenly noticing their joined hands. Maureen cringed as her gaze followed his. It was too late to pull her hand away. Oh shit, she thought as Collins' smile got impossibly wider. "Hallelujah, what HAVE we here?"

She knew Collins would do anything he could to embarrass them, now that he realized what happened. She buried her face in Mark's corduroy jacket so that Collins wouldn't notice the sudden blush that rose in her cheeks. "Shut up, Collins." It came out muffled, but she knew Collins would get it anyway.

Apparently, Mark found her almost childish reaction somewhat amusing. He laughed softly at her unusual shyness as he wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close, and kissed her forehead. Surprisingly, he didn't seem the least embarrassed, quite the contrary. "Hello Thomas," he greeted, looking into Collins' eyes. He pretended to be serious, but his voice carried an unmistakable note of humor. So did his eyes. Maureen repressed a giggle.

Collins did his best looking offended, though it was clear that he didn't take it seriously. He pointed his index finger at Mark in false warning. "Don't call me Thomas." He turned to face Maureen. "Feeling… better?" he managed to ask before he burst out giggling.

Maureen huffed at his childlike behavior, but she was too happy to care. She smiled sweetly at him. "Much much better," she said, turning to kiss Mark.

That seemed to amuse Collins, who couldn't stop laughing at them. "God, am I a genius or what? Tell me! Go ahead, tell me I'm a genius!" he laughed, pushing Mark affectionately.

"You're a genius," stated Mark dryly, then leaned forward to whisper in Maureen's ear, "yeah, right." It was quite an audible whisper. Collins cocked an eyebrow.

Maureen giggled again. He deserved that. "Now tell us this thing about Mimi again." She felt Mark's hand slowly wrapping hers again as what she had just said suddenly hit her. Us. It came out so naturally, she didn't even notice. She couldn't help but smile.

If Collins noticed it as well, he didn't show any sign of it. "She had a bit trouble but the doctor says she'll be out in no time. With the stress, and the environment, her illness, it just took her down. The doctor is with her right now."

"Thank God," said Mark. "I'm glad she's going to be okay."

Maureen nodded. "Yeah, me too." She felt so relieved all of a sudden when the enormity of the news slowly sank in. Mimi's gonna be fine! She was about to ask about Roger when he suddenly appeared from around the corner. He looked exhausted yet happy and relieved. "Oh, here you guys are," he said as he joined them.

Maureen glanced up at Mark. He looked as if he was making great efforts not to leave her hand and check on Roger, though he obviously wanted to. She smiled and gave his hand a little reassuring squeeze. Now she knew they'd be okay, too.

"Hey, you doing okay?" asked Mark but didn't let go of Maureen's hand.

Roger did his best looking happy, but he was too tired for it. "Yeah, I'm great," his eyes were sparkling like a Christmas tree. "Mimi's gonna be okay!" he repeated, as if he still had hard time believing it.

Maureen eyed Roger for a second. He didn't seem to notice that they were holding hands. Apparently, Collins realized that the moment she did, for he gave Roger a look. "Hey Roger."

"Huh?"

"Notice anything different about them?"

Roger scratched his head, obviously missing Collins' intentions. "Them? Them who, the doctors are still in there, aren't they?"

Collins frowned. "Not them! Doesn't Mark look… different to you?"

Roger moved his unfocused stare from Collins to Mark, and eyed him thoughtfully. "Umm… well, he's finally shaved… dunno, new glasses, Marky?"

Maureen did her best to stop herself from giggling. Was he doing that on purpose?

Mark shot Roger a look through his specs. "No Roger, they're not new…" he rolled his eyes.

Collins let out a desperate sigh. "GAH! Roger, are you paying close attention?"

"What the hell do you want from me, man?" asked Roger defensively. "I didn't sleep at all for like a week, and right now I could use a nice cup of double vanilla latte which no one bothered to bring along with him when he got here today," he ended, glaring at Mark, who's jaw nearly dropped.

"You expect me to bring you coffee? Does it say 'personal secretary' on the back of my shirt? Besides, I had… other things in mind…" he said nodding towards Maureen, who tried to keep a straight face. It was a difficult task but it didn't seem to matter much. Roger looked right through them.

Collins looked at Mark and Maureen, then back at Roger. "Well?" Would he finally get it?

He didn't. "Well, I still need coffee," stated Roger.

Mark sighed, defeated. "Fine! I got it! I'll go get some!"

"Double vanilla latte," Roger reminded him.

Mark rolled his eyes again. "Collins, anything?"

"Just black coffee. Milk, no sugar. Thanks."

"Okay," he nodded, then looked at Maureen. He gave her that heart-melting smile again. "Wanna share some hot chocolate?"

Maureen slowly nodded, then ignored Collins and Roger and looked at Mark with innocent puppy eyes. "Do you have to leave?"

Mark got an inch closer and looked straight into her eyes. "Just for a sec," he whispered. "Stay here, I don't want you to tire out."

Maureen smiled sweetly and moved closer, putting her arms on his chest. "Well, do it quick."

Mark nodded and gave her a quick kiss before he turned to leave. Maureen found herself missing him already. She turned to glance at Roger, who stared at her in amazement.

"WELL?" asked Collins victoriously.

"What… the hell… when did you… how…" Roger stammered, then gave up and just kept staring at Maureen, obviously in shock.

Maureen looked at Collins. "Collins, since you claim to be the genius, please explain," she asked sweetly.

"Gladly," answered Collins, then turned his attention back to Roger. "Okay you big dope, Mark plus Maureen equals LOOOVE. They're together again! Since… yesterday?" he stopped and glanced at Maureen for confirmation.

That blush again, and nowhere to hide it. She nodded. "Yeah," she answered shyly.

Collins beamed at her, like a proud father. "Get it Roger?"

Maureen and Collins looked at Roger, who looked thunder-stricken. "Oh Jesus…" he looked at Maureen in total confusion. "But you're supposed to be… I mean, you don't even like… oh God!"

Collins wrapped one arm around Maureen's waist, kissing her cheek. "You made my day, Maureen. Now excuse me for a second you guys, I need to make a phone call," he quickly disappeared around the corner.

Roger kept staring at Maureen. She suspected that he wasn't even aware of the fact that Collins left. There was an awkward silence that she felt committed to break. She looked carefully at Roger. "So, umm… I hope you'll be okay with that."

That seemed to snap Roger out of his shock. "I just… I never expected…" his voice trailed off as he finally looked at her. "Are you sure?" he asked seriously, sounding unsure himself.

Maureen nodded. "I've never been so sure about anything else in my whole life," she said seriously. "Look, Rog, I know things have been a bit… tough and all, but I'll do my best this time. I really will. I hope you will too. And I'm really happy that Mimi's okay," she ended, suggesting him a faint smile.

Roger didn't return that smile right away. He eyed her doubtfully. "Thanks, Maureen, it has been tough," he answered hesitantly, then sighed and gave her a serious look again. "I just don't want Mark to get hurt again. I mean, for the longest time he was a wreck."

"I know. I swear I'll never hurt him again. Look, Roger, I don't expect you to like me again after everything, just… can we at least try to be friends like we used to?"

Roger pondered over it for a moment, then looked at her. "How can I not like you and be friends? Friends are supposed to like each other. Friends are supposed to trust each other. Friends aren't supposed to cheat on their boyfriends with another woman," he didn't sound as serious as he probably meant to. The spark of mischief in his green eyes was too obvious.

"I'll be good. I promise," smiled Maureen when another idea crossed her mind. It worked on Mark, no reason why Roger wouldn't fall for it too. She pouted her lips. "Come on, I know you missed me."

Roger did all he could to hide the wide grin that slowly appeared on his face. "It's NOT going to work, Maureen." That didn't come out as determined as he probably intended it to sound, but Roger tried to save his dignity by keeping a straight face. He shook his head. "Not going to work…"

Maureen laughed softly. She closed the small distance between them and gave him a hug. "Oh, shut up, you ass…"

Unwilling to accept defeat, Roger didn't return the hug at first, but soon afterwards he gave up, slowly wrapping his arms around her. "If you hurt him again I'll kill you," he warned. His tone was soft, but Maureen knew he meant it.

"I won't… I promise I won't…"

That seemed to satisfy Roger, because he tightened his grip around her. "Good."

They stood like that for a moment until a familiar voice erupted the silence. "Hey, the line at Starbucks was really short so…" Mark stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed them. Then he quickly pulled himself together. "Roger? Off my woman or I'll pour hot latte down your pants."

Roger let go of Maureen instantly and snatched the cup gratefully. "That won't be necessary, man…"

Maureen looked at Mark, who put the other two cups on the small table next to them. She smiled. "Did I just hear you say 'off my woman'?"

Mark was grinning evilly at her. "You did, why?"

"Just wanted to make sure… now who are you and what have you done with my man?" she asked seductively and moved closer. "Missed me?" she added before she pulled him for a kiss.

"UUGGHH do you guys mind?" protested Roger, mortified.

Mark ignored him and kissed her again. "Hey, I don't complain when you and Mimi are at it…" he looked at Maureen, rolling his eyes a little before leaning to kiss her once more. "AND I don't say anything when you lock me in the bathroom to make sure I won't walk into you guys on the sofa."

Something sounded so familiar in what Mark had just said. Maureen stared at Roger in amazement. "You still do THAT?"

Roger was about to answer when a young doctor approached them. "Mr. Davis? You can come in now."

Roger thanked him and glanced at Mark and Maureen again. Maureen detected the immediate change in his expression. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

Mark nodded. "Sure."

They watched him follow the doctor until they disappeared down the hall. Mark turned to face her. He held her close and leaned down to kiss her for the umpfth time. She lost count by now. It didn't seem to matter, too, as long as she had him.

"I'm so happy," he whispered.

Maureen smiled against his lips. "Me too." She looked at him, then added quietly, "I love you."

Mark smiled. "I love you, too."

"I love you too, Pookie," a familiar voice squeaked behind them. A bit startled, they turned to face Collins, who was approaching them.

Mark rolled his eyes as Collins drew closer. "Don't call me Pookie, Thomas," he said sternly, even though he was smiling. He was obviously joking, yet Maureen couldn't help but notice the slight change in his tone as he said that word. She felt his grip around her tightening and glanced up at him. He said nothing, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know. Pookie belonged to the past. No more games, no more pretending. She nodded. No more games, no more pretending. Just the two of them now.

As if he had witnessed that silent agreement between the two, Collins nodded as well, then put one arms around Mark's shoulder, another around Maureen's, and led them down the hall to Mimi's room, laughing. "You kids are TOO much!"

Maureen tried to forget the few times she had been in Mimi's room since that whole nightmare began. Everything's gonna be okay now, she reminded herself as Collins let go of her shoulder and moved forward to open the door for her and Mark.

Two heads turned as the three entered the room. Roger sat very close to Mimi's bedside and held her hand. Mimi sat in bed, propped on many pillows. Some color returned to her cheeks and something that was pretty close to a smile lightened her face as she saw the three of them enter. Though she was still somewhat pale and weak looking, the familiar gleam returned to her eyes.

Maureen couldn't help but smile as she approached Mimi's bedside. "Meems, thank God you're okay," she leaned to kiss Mimi's forehead.

Mimi flashed her a reassuring smile. It was weak yet confident. "I'm okay. A little weak on my feet but okay." She looked over Maureen's shoulder, then back at Maureen, and her smile broadened. "Is what I've heard true?"

Maureen shot Roger a glare. He shrugged. She looked back at Mimi. "It depends on what exactly did he tell you."

"He tells me that you and Mark are back together… I never knew…" she laughed softly. "Collins kept saying something about it, but… I've never listened."

Maureen shot Collins an I-knew-it look. He raised his arms defensively and flashed her a brilliant smile. "I told you so" was written all over his face. She frowned. "He did, didn't he… well, yeah, it IS true…" she started, looking back at Mark. Her frown melted into a smile instantly.

Mimi shook her head. "Don't be so bitter, Maureen. Collins was the only one who had faith. You should be grateful to him. He was your flame."

Maureen returned her look from behind a veil of tears. Damnit, when did she become so sentimental and touchy? "No, Mimi, you are." She knew it was the corniest thing to say, but so true at the same time.

"I didn't do anything," protested Mimi, shaking her head.

"Oh, come on girls, stop that sentimental crap…" said Roger.

Mark was soon to follow. "Touching, I wish I had my camera," he added cynically.

Collins smacked him playfully. "Don't be so insensitive about it."

"Roger started it!"

Collins sighed and looked at Mark and Roger as if they were a hopeless case. "You men just don't understand us."

Mark didn't seem to get it. He stared dumbly at Collins. "Huh?"

Maureen laughed. "Calm down, kids…"

"Hey, umm… do you guys mind if you leave me and Maureen alone?" asked Mimi. "I… I kinda wanna talk to her."

Roger eyed her doubtfully. "Sure… you'll be okay?"

Mimi smiled. "Maureen will be here, don't worry about me."

Roger returned her smile. "Fine then," he said, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too." Mimi waited until the guys left before she faced Maureen again. Her eyes sparkled. "You've never told me about you and Mark."

Mark's name made Maureen smile. She sat on the edge of Mimi's bed. "I did, back at that coffee house at NYC, remember?"

"But I thought you didn't want to…"

"I guess that at that time I didn't know what I wanted. But I do now."

Mimi laughed softly. "I would never have figured. I was so sure you were over him."

"I thought I was too, but then I realized I wasn't, not really." She looked seriously at Mimi. "Meems, I have to tell you… I kinda feel that this… you being here… is all my fault."

Mimi looked puzzled. "Why?"

Maureen sighed. "You exhausted yourself just to be there in my show, Collins told me. And then I didn't do it… what the hell were you thinking, taking all these double shifts in your condition?"

"Maureen, don't blame yourself, it's not your fault, really. It's me. It's the way things are at the club. It's not you at all," Mimi assured her. Maureen looked at her doubtfully. Still, what if it was? And as if Mimi could read her mind, she sighed and looked at her seriously. "Maureen, you have to get used to this. I'm sick. This will keep happening. I'm not that strong."

It was said so straightforward, Maureen's only comfort was the fact that Mimi was realistic. But still, it wasn't enough. Reality was cruel. "I just hate this," she said honestly. "You get attached to someone so much and then you lose them. I don't wanna lose you too, Meems, I care about you too much to lose you."

"You lose, you win. You don't lose people, you gain more angels," said Mimi, smiling sweetly.

Maureen returned that smile. "You ARE our angel."

Soon the guys were back in the room with more coffee and breakfast from the hospital's cafeteria. As they sat there, eating and engaged in light conversation, Maureen couldn't stop herself from thinking back about the previous day, about what she was thinking while sitting near April's grave. Nothing lasted forever. She thought about what Mimi had just told her. _This will keep happening. I'm not that strong_. She felt Mark's hand caressing hers, his fingers slowly interlacing with hers. She looked at him and smiled. Maybe nothing lasted forever. But maybe it didn't even matter. She should stick to a better philosophy. No day but today.

**

* * *

Though it kind of looks like the ending chapter, it's not. There are couple more chapters till the end, so don't you go anywhere! Stay alert for the next update!**


	25. Chapter 25

_**Author's Note: Three announcements. First, I'm sorry for the delay, but I do have a future to think about. College applications. But I'm done with most of them, but don't be surprised if a project comes up. PinkElphaba and I would also like to take this opportunity and congratulate the big screen release of Rent, and, to whoever hasn't seen it, watch it. I, myself, have seen it twice and am looking forward to a third time. Lastly, we have downgraded our story to T, as requested, because it ain't all that dirty. We hope that this story will reach a broader audience. It's quite tasteful, if I do say so myself. Wishful thinking. Any objections, feel free to contact us.**_

_**Enjoy.**_

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_So this is love... lalalala… lalala… so this is love… So this is what makes life divine, I'm all aglow… lalalala… and now I know…_

Okay- who put that damn Cinderella movie on? Mark was wide awake in his bed, but he didn't want to get up. He was too comfortable. Yet for once he didn't lie awake mourning every waking hour the day was to bring. Instead he rested peacefully, happily as that stupid love song ran through his head. God, this must be it, thought Mark, half-smiling. I must really be in love. Mark wished he could just dream about Maureen all day.

"Get up, Mark, we've got a lot to do today," said Roger entering his room and fluttering the blinds open so that a blinding light blazed through. "Actually, _you've_ got a lot to do today. So get up!"

Mark groaned softly, pulling the covers over his head. "I thought I got away from home so I didn't have to listen to 'Get up Mark'?"

Roger paused and stared at him. "This _IS_ home," he replied followed by a maniacal laugh. He grinned and headed out of his bedroom.

"Can you get me my slippers?" asked Mark.

"I'm not your fairy godmother," retorted Roger before disappearing. Mark caught the irony of that and sighed. He tossed the bed sheets aside and sat up, stretching. He closed his eyes and took in a nice long breath before feeling a sudden pain in his head.

"Ow, what'd you do that for?" asked Mark rubbing the back of his neck. The pain had traveled pretty fast. Roger had smacked him with one of his Peanuts gang slippers that had a black fuzzy ball sticking from the toe of the shoe.

"Did your mom buy you these?" asked Roger.

"No."

"Oh. Why Snoopy?"

"Because I like Snoopy!" Mark grabbed the slipper and snuggled his left foot in it. He waited attentively. "Well?"

"Well what?" Roger stood up and walked near the doorway.

"Where's the other one?"

"I just found that one," said Roger and left. Mark groaned but then laughed afterwards. He had to admit that having Snoopy slippers were pretty dorky, but Maureen had bought it for him on his birthday when they first started dating. Mark mentioned how he used to love watching the Peanuts gang on television when he was a kid, and she thought Snoopy looked cute on him. He smiled. He couldn't wait to see her again, even though they had been seeing a lot of each other.

Ever since that night after going to the cemetery, after spilling each other's guts out at the café… they couldn't stand being away from one another. Mark felt that old fire kindling again in his heart, but the flame seemed different. He didn't know what it was, but he felt surer about this, like he knew what he wanted and how to handle it. He wasn't quite afraid of what was going to happen in the future; he wasn't worried about Maureen's second life or if she was having one. The only thing he wanted was for her to be happy, and for them to be happy. The flame was back, and this time, Mark planned to keep it burning forever.

Before following Roger into the kitchen, Mark washed up in the bathroom, feeling refreshed. He splashed some cold water on his face, put on his glasses and walked into the kitchen. He was surprised to see Roger already sitting in front of an empty plate, a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, and a napkin tucked into his shirt collar. Mark gave him an odd look.

"Oh? So you've decided to come after all?" said Roger with a pout on his face.

"Huh?" Mark questioned as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"You're supposed to feed me," said Roger stubbornly.

"Who am I, your fairy godmother?" asked Mark smirking.

Roger just stared at him blankly. "You've never seen _Cinderella_, have you?" He hammered on the table with his silverware. "Food, Chef Boyard-Marky, Food! You've been cooking for the past few days, and it's just now starting to get good. So come on. Bacon's not gonna cook itself."

"You're lucky I'm not going all Jewish on you because you're eating a form of pig," said Mark pointing a spatula at him.

"Mark, you can't eat pig, you can't eat seafood. They must have fed you like, grass, as a child," said Roger. "Make it extra crispy please."

"Fine. But I'm only doing it because you're thin and need some meat in your bones."

"I'M thin? Look again Mr. Tetherball Pole," remarked Roger.

"I thought we dropped that name in high school!"

"Sorry."

"Scrambled or poached?"

"Sunny side up."

Mark gave him a look. Roger merely grinned. Boy, he's getting spoiled, Mark thought laughing, but he was glad that Roger was finally smiling again. He continued to prepare breakfast as they talked. Mostly they talked about Mimi and how she was doing a lot better. She had just gotten back from the hospital earlier this week and Roger's been spending most of his time with her, taking care of her. The good thing was that he was happy again. For hours on, every night, Mark had to bear Roger talking on and on about Mimi. It was like he never wanted to let her go. Of course, finally, Mimi got tired of Roger being there every single day, babying her, so she told him his time frame was from 9:30a.m. to 9:30p.m. He became upset at first but he couldn't say no to her.

They then started to talk about Collins. They couldn't believe he was actually leaving for Jersey in two weeks. He said everything was going to be fine, and Mark couldn't help but agree with him. He and Maureen were great, Roger and Mimi were great- they didn't need Collins as much to fix things anymore, as much as Mark hated to admit it. But they were going to miss him so much. Collins said the work would do him good though- he needed the money.

"So are we meeting at Maureen's later?" asked Roger.

"Of course," said Mark. They were having a small get-together in honor of Mimi's recovery. But Mark would have to arrive late.

"Be sure to tell Maureen that I'll be coming a bit late."

"Yes mother." Roger rolled his eyes. "So are you sure you aren't going to tell me what you're doing behind everyone's back? Why you're so 'busy' all the time, why you've been late lately?"

"No."

"I already know it's for Maureen's birthday coming up…"

"STOP guessing!"

"It's obvious! Mark, I've been living with you for too long to not know something about the way you act. When you're mad, you film, when you're sad, you lock yourself in your room, when you're horny, you masturbate-"

"God, you pay WAY too much attention to me," said Mark smiling. "Are you gay?"

"I am NOT gay," said Roger laughing.

"Well if you were…" Mark laid a plateful of bacon, eggs and toast in front of his not-gay friend, and prepared himself a plate as well.

"So you admit it?"

"Admit what?" asked Mark.

"You DO masturbate when you're horny."

"God, Roger, shut up… You remind me of someone."

"Who?" The phone rang. Roger leapt to get it. "Hello? Mimi? I'll be right there!"

Mark noticed that he'd only been on the phone for two seconds with her before running out to help her. "Did she even say what was wrong?"

"She said hello." Roger took the plate with him and dashed to the front door.

"You're such a sucker," murmured Mark and Roger glared at him and left. Mark finished eating and began to organize Maureen's birthday dinner. It was true he had been busy lately preparing for her dinner, which was in two weeks. He wanted it to be perfect; he wanted to make a long-lasting impression. Most of all he wanted to surprise Maureen, totally throw her off guard with what he was planning. He had everything set, he was practicing his culinary skills, searching through cook books, but still something was missing and he knew what it was. Maureen's gift.

He had no idea what to get her. He didn't want to give her something meaningful- well he did but he didn't. He knew she was expecting something like a necklace or a ring that would symbolize their form of love, but Mark hated that. He didn't want to prove his devotion for her in something as cliché as jewelry… alright, the truth was that he didn't want to prove his devotion in something he couldn't afford. But he wanted to level with her- he wanted to get her something he knew she'd love.

Gah, what did she like? Mark tried to think. He wished he knew someone who was an expert at this type of thing. Did he know any romancer? Roger… well Roger doesn't know what he's doing half the time, thought Mark, women are just attracted to him. Unfair.

The phone rang. Mark walked over to pick it up thinking that it might be Maureen or even Roger.

"Hello?" answered Mark.

"Roger?"

"No… who's this?" It sounded familiar, but he didn't know who it was.

"Mark? Is that really you?"

"Yeah… yeah who is this?"

"It's Alex, Mark."

Mark froze. Alex? Oh man. They had lost contact with Alex for the longest time. Mark was pretty upset about that. No one knew what happened to him until a little over a half a year ago when Roger bumped into him one day. He wouldn't tell Mark where he had met him or anything else about why he broke contact with them, but he assured Mark that he was doing all right with a kid, Jacob. Mark wasn't surprised at all that he had a kid- he slept with so many women, he had to have knocked one of them up. That was a cruel way to put it, but he remembered Alex's sense of humor. But wow. The three of them had been the best of friends until that night… that crazy night when he'd gone missing… when April died…

"Alex, how're you? Long time," said Mark.

"I know it," said Alex.

"Were you looking for Roger?"

"Yeah, I uhh… wanted to confirm Jacob's guitar lesson."

"Confirm, huh? That's a big word," Mark teased.

"I be reading," Alex answered laughing. "Is he not there?"

"No he stepped out… I can go get him, I guess-"

"It's alright, I'll talk to him later." A short silent. "Mark… how have you been?"

"You know the story- downs and ups, but I've been doing great now."

"So I hear."

"And you?"

"Good." There was another silence. This was awkward. It's like he hardly knew him… but that was impossible. It was Alex. His character was built to the tee.

"Anything interesting happening?" asked Alex.

"Well… I'm trying to think of a gift for Maureen's birthday… any ideas?" Mark knew Alex was a natural charmer when it came with women. Never was he seen without a girl in one arm, sometimes two if he felt like it.

"Depends. Do you want 'oh I love you Mark' or do you just wanna get laid?"

Mark smiled. Same old Alex. "Is it possible to get both?"

Alex laughed. "Hmm… sure, if your name is Alex Meyers. But I guess it can work for Mark Cohen too. Let's see, a gift for Maureen Johnson… tell you what, can you meet me outside your loft in 20 minutes?"

"Sure, why?"

"Jacob's at daycare, I can take you shopping."

"Shopping? I don't know…."

"Do you have any other choice?"

Mark sighed but then smiled. "No… meet you in 20."

--------------------------

"I don't know about this…" said Mark hesitantly. They were walking down the sidewalk where Alex had just told him where they were going.

"Oh come on Mark, trust me. She looks like the type of person who'd like that kind of gift judging from what I knew about her years back… and let's not forget that unbelievable Poker night…"

Mark smiled at that thought. It was an unbelievable night. "You remember that?"

"How could I forget? Lucky for you I wasn't here to snatch her away."

"Who were you with that night?" mocked Mark. "Virginia? America? Rose?"

"God, when you say it, I sound so pitiful." Alex thought for a moment. "I don't remember."

"Well if you dated real girls instead of locations and things… Oh I just remembered her name. Gina!"

Alex grinned widely at the sound of her name. "Oh yeah NOW I remember."

They laughed and Alex cleared his throat. "So tell me something Marky. When I called Roger last Christmas he told me that you were dumped. And then I call last week and he tells me you're back together. How did that happen?"

From what Mark remembered Alex was always curious about gossip. It got his hands dirty and he had a foundation to ridicule people with. Mark shook his head. "It's a long story. Do you really want to hear it?"

"I don't know, do I? Does it have any… interesting, juicy parts?"

"You mean sex?"

"Or anything sex-related."

"The whole thing was one big mess…" Mark knew that he wouldn't be able to keep Alex's attention for more than three seconds, so he didn't want to bother telling. "Tell you what. I'll make a film out of it then I'll send it to you."

"Well that all depends on what type of film it's gonna be…"

"No Alex, it's not gonna be a porno film."

"Then forget it. So what are you going to do for her birthday?"

"We're throwing her a party. You can come too if you want."

"Sure, count me in. Beautiful girls and free alcohol? Of course I'm there. But that's not what I meant. What are YOU going to do for her birthday?"

Mark gave him a suspicious look. There will never be a day where that boy will think of something nice like ponies or unicorns…well unless… "Dinner… for two…" He tried to be vague. He knew Alex wanted all the details, and Mark wasn't giving it to him.

"Dinner for two…. Hmm…" They stopped in front of a shop and Mark stopped in horror. He didn't think Alex would actually take him here. Okay, he had small doubts, but he was so embarrassed. What if someone saw him? What would they think? Mark tried to take deep breaths as Alex led him into the lingerie boutique.

"Breathe Mark, the air's not contaminated with that much perfume…" said Alex tugging his shirt. Mark's feet glued itself to the ground.

"There are women in there!"

Alex's expression appeared shock as he took a double take in the shop. "By GOD, there ARE women in here. Come on Mark, suck it up! Be a man!"

"I can't be a man in there!"

"Oh trust me, once you get a load of these nighties, you'll be able to be a man. GET in here." He grabbed him by the shoulders and pried him off the sidewalk, dragging him inside. "You're such a wuss."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." Mark felt kind of nervous. It was bad enough he was teased about sounding like a girl at his bar mitzvah's speech, but he felt embarrassed receiving stares and odd looks from women he didn't know. It was like holding his mom's purse… He looked around. They were the only men there. "Look, there are just women."

"I know, isn't it great? Fine women at that," said Alex winking at a curly haired brunette who walked passed them.

"You're embarrassing yourself," remarked Mark.

"No I'm not." Alex mouthed 'how're you doing' to the brunette who smiled and walked away. He leaned toward Mark. "See, still got it." He straightened up and took a look around the shop. "So! Let's start."

"Start?" Mark looked around at the surfeit of women's wear, lingerie, nightgowns, underwear, bras, and other delicates that hung on racks, mannequins, and displays. There were so many different kinds, he didn't know where to start, or how to start. He was beginning to think that Alex was off a bit. Okay, as if he didn't realize that before.

"Yes, start, Mark," replied Alex shortly. He was rummaging through a rack of assorted gowns. "What did you have in mind? Something as dorkish and hopeless as you are…" He held up a long sleeved, knee length blue cotton nightwear. "…or as sexy and hot as she is?" He held a red transparent nightgown with feathers at the neckline.

Mark observed both and looked at him uncomfortably. "Can we do a combo? Sexy, but hopeless?"

Alex grinned. "We can give it a shot. I heard pity always worked well in the bedroom, but of course, I never had to resort to that."

"You suck, you know that, right?"

"Only sometimes." Mark rolled his eyes at him, and Alex laughed. He continued to rummage through the gowns as Mark fiddled his thumbs. God, he felt like such an amateur… well, shopping for lingerie wasn't exactly a sport, but still… or was it? Alex held out a light blue nightgown that looked as if it was made in the dark. "Here's hopeless, but I think she'd wear one of your things before wearing this."

"Ha, ha," said Mark, although he wanted to smile because Maureen had worn his clothes before. Mark felt a shiver down his spine. "Man, it feels so weird being in here. Don't you feel strange?"

"Do you need to go pee Mark?"

"No I do not need-"

"Look there's the restroom, two feet behind you." Alex shoved him into the hallway. "Go. I'll be right here when you come out." He had that grin. For all Mark knew, he'd disappear and leave him there. Mark glanced around him. One door. Women's restroom. But no men's.

"There's no bathroom for us in there," said Mark walking out.

"What?"

"Just a women's room."

"Fuck, that's so sexist," hissed Alex. "I'll file a complaint later. Here." He handed him a nightie. "Wear it, you can pass for a girl."

Mark pouted his lips and threw it at him angrily. "Stop playing Alex. Why don't you wear it?"

"You've got the legs for it!"

"What? You're taller than I am!"

"I didn't shave!" Alex stopped and shook his head. "What am I saying?" Mark laughed a bit, Alex joining in and continuing with his search for the perfect nightwear. This was just like the good old days. The days where they didn't have to worry about falling in love, or being broken-hearted. The days where they just fooled around and supported each other. He wondered if it could ever be the same again.

Mark sighed. Get back to work, he said to himself quietly. Work. That's what he called this. He wandered around when something horrific caught his eye. A mannequin nearby wore a black leathered nightie with fishnets, a whip, and a Madonna-styled bra. "What the hell is _that_?"

Alex followed his eyes to Mark's direction and paused. "I don't think you're ready for that, Mark. Baby steps, now, small, baby steps." He looked at him curiously. "Unless you're into that sort of thing…"

"No! That's horrible," said Mark. He couldn't even think about Maureen wearing something like that. With that bra… wouldn't it be very painful?

"Not horrible, just not quite to your level yet," said Alex. "And I don't want to insult your taste, Mark, because you are dating one of the most beautiful girls in NYC… though I still don't understand what she sees in you-"

"Do you enjoy making me feel miserable or does it come naturally?"

"Bit of both."

"You know, I'm going to push you off a building one day, you just watch."

"So is it true that she dumped you for another woman, or was Roger just twisting my arm? Because I would find that really funny."

Mark suddenly blushed. "She came back, didn't she?" He didn't want to give in to Alex, he had to revert himself somehow. "Would you shut up? I've got some dirt on you as well." Mark knew that wouldn't work on Alex half as well as he liked. It was just the way Alex was programmed. He had a twisted sense of humor.

Alex continued to smile and rummage through clothing. "Man, she's so hot…"

Mark wanted to kick him sometimes. "You know, I'm not really comfortable with you hitting on my girlfriend in front of me. Would you at least give me the courtesy of doing it behind my back?"

"Marky, I could do more than hit on your girlfriend behind your back…"

"So how's your kid, by the way?" Mark asked in a pathetic attempt to change subjects. He didn't have any defense with him, so he had to take another approach.

"He's great, you should see him sometime."

"Bring him to the party. I'm sure everyone would love to meet him." Mark was interested in seeing how Alex interacted with his son. For some reason, he could definitely see Alex as a good father. Well, except for the women coming in and out of his apartment.

"Is it kid-friendly enough?" asked Alex.

"Just don't let him have any booze," said Mark smiling. He could tell that Alex didn't like to joke around about his kid, so he put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, everyone will take care of him. I think I'll invite Cindy and the kids too."

"How is your sister, by the way?"

"Cindy is doing very well, thank you." Mark looked up. I was going to say that, he thought to himself, and turned to his left. Cindy stood there with a several gowns in her arms, smiling brilliantly. Oh shit… He needed to think of a decent response for being in a lingerie shop with another guy. Alex, of all people.

"Mark, it's been a while. What are you doing here?" asked Cindy suspiciously.

"Uhh… shopping." Mark looked at Alex nervously. He flashed Mark a grin. You asshole, you're never any help, he wanted to say.

"Shopping?" she asked raising en eyebrow. "I didn't know you and Michelle were going out long enough for you to buy her lingerie…"

"Who is Michelle?" asked Alex to Mark. "Marky?"

Mark gave him a look and turned back to Cindy. "Cindy, Michelle and I broke up… We're…" he glanced at Alex, unsure. "We're buying something for Maureen."

Cindy's jaw dropped. Mark felt his heartbeat stop a few times. He hated that she had to find out this way. Cindy began to stutter. "M-Maureen? I don't understand. I thought you didn't want anything to do with her."

Mark looked down and scrunched his eyebrows. He looked at his sister earnestly. "It's complicated." His sister gazed at him uneasily. "Trust me. This is it. She's the one, I know."

"Ooh, Marky," squealed Alex, nudging him with his elbow. Mark shot him another look.

"But… are you sure about this Mark? You know I love Maureen, but she's hurt you so much…"

"I'm sure." Mark laughed. "Would I be standing in the middle of a lingerie shop if I wasn't?"

She laughed. "That's true."

"Aren't you going to invite your sister to the party?" asked Alex.

"What party?" she asked inquisitively.

"Right, Maureen's birthday party. You can bring the family, if you want. I'll call you later to fill you in on all the details. You must be so confused."

"I am, but you can fill me in later. Just tell me the date and time of the party, and I'll fit it in my schedule somehow."

"Sure thing." Mark smiled then took one step closer to his sister. "So sis… what exactly are _you_ doing here? Planning something… special?" Mark grinned. He didn't mean to embarrass her, but he couldn't help it.

"Maybe…" She blushed slightly. "Do you guys need any help?"

"Right, like I really wanna be seen shopping for nighties with my sister," said Mark jokingly.

"It was just an offer," she said. "Well, I'll leave you then. Gotta try these on. See ya Mark."

"Bye Cindy," he quickly kissed her on the cheek. She bid goodbye to Alex, and left silently. Alex traced his eyes on her until she disappeared into the fitting room.

"You know I just got a mental picture of how your sister would look in one of those gowns she was holding…"

"Shut up Alex!" Does he ever stop, Mark thought frantically.

"No, she doesn't look half bad. Oh, wait, let me guess… she got the good genes right?" Mark glared at him. This was a guy that everyone loved to hate, but there was just something about him. Mark remembered that he was very loyal… up until he vanished without telling them. "I'm just playing with you, Mark. So shall we get back to work?"

"Sure," said Mark. After that whole scene with Cindy, he felt a bit more comfortable. Once one person he knew had seen him, he didn't feel so bad. "So how does the great Alex Meyers shop for lingerie?"

"I'm glad you asked. It's more of a seventh sense."

Mark cocked an eyebrow. "You mean sixth sense?"

"No sixth sense is smell, get with it, Mark," he said grabbing a few clothing.

Mark laughed. He could always make him laugh. Alex held up three items: a long white, low-cut gown, a short, chocolate-colored nightie, and a red two-piece set. "Which one?"

"Umm…"

"Feel, Mark, feel."

"Actually, I'm not feeling any of them."

Alex looked at him awkwardly and sighed. He placed the lingerie back. "Okay." He grabbed Mark's shoulders. "Okay, which direction should we go?"

"Huh?" Mark looked at him as if he was crazy.

"It's like a gravitational pull, don't think too hard."

"Oh, so that's why you're an expert at this type of thing?"

"Are you going to try to insult me or are you going to work with me?"

Mark sighed. He looked at some of the nightwear, and didn't really like any of them. Wait. Mark pulled out something and held it out. "I like this."

"Good, Mark…hmm…" Alex took it from him and observed it carefully. He held it against Mark's body.

"How's it look?" asked Mark.

"Not too bad at all…" said Alex. "It really brings out your eyes."

"You mean her eyes?"

"No, I mean your eyes. Hold it, see." Mark did what he was told and pulled out the lace at the hem a bit. "It looks nice, Mark."

"Finding everything alright?" they looked behind them to find one of the staff members smiling at them.

Alex gave her the gown. "Yes, can I have this in medium?"

She chuckled, and nodded. "Sure…" she continued to laugh as she walked into a back room.

"What's her problem?"

Mark laughed. "You just asked her for a medium."

"So? Maureen's got a lot of cleav-" He held out his palms in front of his chest as if he was holding to big watermelons then looked up with sudden epiphany. "Ohh… How immature."

Mark laughed even harder and continued with their shopping. It took a while to find the perfect gown, and despite all the snickers from passersby, it was all worth it. They found the perfect one and Mark couldn't help but feel proud of himself. He admitted that it was a bad idea before, but in the end, this could turn out to be a very good thing for him. He hoped more than anything that Maureen would like it. Knowing Alex, he could almost count on his expertise to bring a smile to a woman's face. Well, Alex was good for one thing. As they walked out of the shop, Mark asked if he had any sisters.

"I'm an only child," replied Alex. "Why?"

"It's just… you're very in touch with your feminine side." Mark looked at him, and although it was impossible, he had to ask. "You're not…"

"Mark, I will never get tired of the opposite sex," said Alex. "I just know what they like, and what they want. So, where are we going? This isn't the way to your place."

"I thought it would be nice if you stopped by at Maureen's. Catch up with the gang and meet Roger's girl, Mimi," said Mark. He enjoyed spending time with Alex and just wanted him to be back with his friends.

"Sure," he said smiling. "It's going to be weird…"

"Because it's not April?" asked Mark.

"Yeah," said Alex nodding. He sighed. "Maureen's not going to be too happy."

"It's because you always bug her about everything," Mark pointed out.

Alex laughed. "It's just so much fun because she fights back."

Mark suddenly grinned. "Collins will be there."

Alex almost stopped in his footsteps. He slowed his pace and looked at Mark attentively. "Does he…"

"Still have a crush on you?" completed Mark. "We'll see… Collins has changed a lot. Did Roger ever tell you about Angel?"

"No." For the rest of the way, Mark explained about how Collins and Angel were the perfect couple, always bringing each other happiness while spreading the love around. He described how she was and Alex smiled all the way through. He let Mark do a lot of the talking, which was strange because Alex was always the one chattering away. And this time Alex was actually paying attention, nodding every few moments to assure him that he was listening. When Mark finally let him talk, Alex told him about how life was with Jacob.

Mark had a few questions, things he wanted to hear from Alex himself, so he didn't hesitate to ask. But he was very vague with his answers. He asked him who the mother was, and Alex answered that it was no one he knew. He asked if he was living with her, and he told him that she just left one day. Alex didn't bother to put in any details. Obviously, he didn't want to talk about it. Mark understood. It was like they were strangers all over again. They hadn't seen each other for nearly three years. Soon, they approached Maureen's apartment, went up the stairs, and knocked on her door.

"Be nice," warned Mark.

"Yes mommy," replied Alex. They heard Collins' voice from the other side yelling "It's open!" and Mark opened the door. They went inside. Mark could see that everyone was there. Then Roger leapt up from the couch.

"ALEX!"

"Hey man," whispered Alex softly as Roger wrapped his arms around his neck. Alex patted his back and laughed whole-heartedly. They made introductions, and Mark detected the irritable air Maureen had as she said hello to Alex. He quickly grabbed her attention and pulled her close, trying to get her mind off of him. He ignored the guys' complaints, mostly Roger's, and felt so relieved that Maureen smiled back at him. Mark almost forgot that he was holding his shopping bag.

"Nice bag, Mark," said Collins skeptically, "been shopping?"

Everyone in the room looked at the rose-colored bag, and Mark smiled sheepishly at Maureen. He glanced over at Alex, who was sitting on the armrest of the reclining chair, for some help. He merely shrugged.

"It's nothing," said Mark weakly, looking at Maureen. He turned away and faced the guys. He hated lying to her. "They're just film reels and such."

"Film reels in a pink bag?" asked Collins disbelievingly.

"It was the weirdest photography shop ever. A bunch of abstract crap," said Alex nodding. At least he was more convincing than Mark.

"PINK bag?" inquired Roger.

"It was either pink or stripes, and the stripes made Mark look fat," said Alex. Mark nodded viciously in hopeful agreement, but Maureen gave him that suspicious glare. Please buy it, he begged silently. Then Collins voice echoed through.

"You didn't!" He jumped out of his seat. Don't figure it out, Collins!

"Huh? What are you talking about Collins?" Mark tried to sound shocked, but the quiver in his voice gave away his panic and slight fear. He bit his lip and looked at Alex who was grinning, waiting for the results.

Roger stood up. "You went into a PORNOGRAPHY shop?"

Maureen's jaw dropped as she let go of Mark's hand. She looked at the bag, stunned. Mark hid it behind him. He didn't know what to say. "WHAT?" she said.

"PHOTOgraphy shop, you ass, didn't you hear me before?" said Alex rolling his eyes at Roger's question. "Besides, there aren't any pornography shops around here. I know, I checked."

Maureen suddenly gave Mark a devious look, and snaked her arms around his waste. Oh God, she always uses that tactic against me, thought Mark as he backed away slowly. She pulled herself closer, and Mark could feel his heart beating faster with every second. If you give in now, you'll ruin it for yourself, he thought.

"Maureen, please, it's nothing," said Mark, about to break a sweat. He looked over her shoulder to see Alex standing, looking a bit panicked himself. Okay, I'm not the athletic type, but here goes nothing, thought Mark helplessly. "Alex, Statue of Liberty play!" He threw the bag over Maureen's head as hard as he could. Luckily Alex caught it fine.

"That's not the Statue of Liberty play, you dork!" said Alex laughing. Maureen gave Mark one more look before turning to Alex who stuffed the bag under his jacket.

"Alex, give me the bag or I'll kill you!" she demanded. She started chasing him around, with not much luck because Alex was much faster, more athletic, and was on the football team with Roger in high school. Mark tried to gain back some oxygen as he leaned against the door, watching Maureen in pursuit.

"Over here Alex!" said Roger from the other side of the room, near the kitchen. He waved his arms madly as Alex tossed it over to him.

"ROGER DAVIS!" screamed Maureen. "You're supposed to be on the good side!"

"I like football," he said simply. The two of them continued to play keep-away from Maureen, who was getting more frustrated by the minute. Maureen was able to get Roger on the floor at one point, but the bag flew over to Alex before she could get a decent hold of it. Mark could tell she was getting tired, and almost wanted to stop the game by showing her what was inside, but he couldn't let himself do that. She stopped and took a couple of breaths, then turned to Mark. She grinned.

Uh-oh. The guys immediately stopped in the background as she moved closer and closer to him. She tossed her hair back and her eyes sparkled. She smiled. He loved the way she smiled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he could smell her strawberry scent, a scent he always placed on her since they met. For a split second, there wasn't anybody in the room except for them…

"Tell me what's in the bag Mark, or I'll make you regret it," she said in a low tone. She slid one hand down his chest. Okay, maybe I could tell her, he thought swallowing.

"Offside! Traveling! Out of bounds!" said Roger, trying to distract her. She shot him a glare and locked her eyes back with Mark's. She laid her head on his chest, and Mark wanted so much to give in. She caressed her fingers up and down his spine, and Mark could feel his body temperature rising. She glanced at him and smiled.

"Do not surrender Mark! Remember the cause!" said Alex standing on the reclining chair. "Red, white, and blue! Red, white, and blue!"

"Get down from there," hissed Collins. Alex obeyed. Mark looked at Alex, the guy who spent the last two hours or so helping him shop for Maureen. He wasn't going to give in now. He looked at Maureen seriously.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked softly.

She moved closer to his ear. "You know I do," she whispered, "but now you got me curious."

Mark kept steady. "Trust me," he said determinedly.

She looked at him, her eyes crystallizing in the light. She sighed. "If it is pornography, I'm going to kill you." She kissed him passionately, and Mark smiled in between. Finally, he did something right. He pulled her closer, deeper into the kiss.

"UGH, Jesus Christ, get a room!" said Roger.

Maureen pulled away and Mark grinned at her. "I'll go and get some snacks from the kitchen," she said. She turned around to the rest of the guys. "Coffee, anyone?"

A harmony of "please" followed, and she vanished into the kitchen. Mark sat down on the reclining chair as the party continued.

"I've got a great one," said Alex, "this cross-dresser walks into a stripper's club…"

Grumbles were heard and Alex stopped. "What? Have you heard this one?"

"No, but it might offend more than one person here," said Mark.

"Who?" asked Alex.

"Why don't you help Maureen in the kitchen, Alex?" asked Mark, hoping to get him away for a while until he forgets the joke.

"I know when I'm not wanted," he said standing up.

"But you're still here," said Collins, shaking his head. Alex grinned widely, and they all laughed. Even when he didn't say anything at all, he was funny. They watched him strut into the kitchen, and giggled a bit more.

"Did you really spend the whole morning with him?" asked Collins chuckling.

"Yeah," said Mark putting his feet up on the table.

"At a photography shop," teased Roger wrapping an arm around Mimi, and sinking into the sofa.

"So… how'd you find him?" asked Collins honestly. Mark sat up and began to describe how Alex called amidst of all his shuffling around in the loft, and what went on from there. Roger filled in the details about how he met him a while ago, but even he didn't know much about what happened either. And what he did know, he swore he wouldn't tell. Mark knew that Roger told him everything despite whether it was supposed to be a secret or not. But considering it was Alex, the most reliable friend they knew, Mark figured Roger felt like he owed him something. Alex may not be the friendliest guy, or the most truthful, or the most modest person, but he was someone they always could depend on. They all knew that.

A few minutes later, loud clamoring came from the kitchen.

"I think Maureen shoved Alex's head inside the oven," said Collins, shifting in his seat.

"Leave it at 375 degrees!" called Roger.

"How do you know about baking?" asked Mimi curiously. Roger smiled and shrugged as Mark tried to listen to their voices.

"SCORE!" a voice said. Oh God, thought Mark, this can't be good.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

The following couple of weeks passed in a blissful daze for Maureen. Mimi was finally released from the hospital at the beginning of that week, and though Roger wanted her to stay in their loft for a while, Mimi refused. She didn't want to be a burden, and she couldn't wait to get back to her own apartment. Roger stayed with her most of the time, which meant that Mark and Maureen had the loft to themselves. They spent most of their time together, as if to make up for all the long months apart from one another. When they weren't in the loft they were at Maureen's, spending some quality time with Collins.

Sometimes they went outside for long walks, mostly in the park, and Mark brought his camera along with them. Maureen loved these walks, but most of all, she loved spending her nights with him, cuddling against him, watching him asleep. Whether it was in Mark's bed or in hers, she always slept better knowing he'd be there next to her when she'd wake up. The weeks since they got back together were definitely the best time of her life. It was like when they started going out the first time, with all the excitement and the butterflies, only better. Everything was new, yet familiar.

"Maureen?"

Maureen's head snapped up to meet Collins' amused gaze. Shit, she was daydreaming again. She found herself doing that a lot lately. She smiled sheepishly at him. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. And I think I'll just stop talking because you're not listening to me anyway. I get hoarse and tired for nothing." He didn't sound accusing, on the contrary. He obviously enjoyed making fun of her.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll listen next time."

"Besides, I don't see what all the fuss is about. You'll see him in a couple of hours anyway," he batted his eyelashes jokingly.

"Quit it, Collins," she laughed, trying her best to give him a no-nonsense look. She had to stop. She knew that at some point, Collins would become annoyed and hurt rather than amused. Oh, shit, and here she was doing it all over again!

She smiled to herself and started humming along with the music from the living-room stereo, a Broadway Tunes' CD that Collins took interest in lately.

They were about to throw Mimi a welcome-back-party, and the guys were supposed to be there in about two hours. Collins and Maureen spent all morning shopping for groceries. For Mimi's sake, they decided on sandwiches and sodas, not pizza or other stuff of that kind. They bought cream cheese, vegetables and bagels and went back to their apartment to make the sandwiches. They did that for couple of hours, and when Maureen wasn't daydreaming they laughed and joked and sang along with the music in the background.

Maureen couldn't believe it was about to end. Collins would go to Jersey soon; he told them the previous week about that new teaching position he was offered. It would be painful for everyone once he left. Maureen thought she wouldn't be able to take it. They got closer since he moved in with her. Now she couldn't imagine her life without his newspapers scattered all over the living-room, his weird Regae CD's, his laughter echoing through the apartment whenever he watched his favorite comedy on TV, his…

"Maureen!"

Shit… "It wasn't about Mark!" she cried defensively.

Collins eyed her doubtfully. "Yeah… right, okay…"

"I swear! It wasn't!"

"Let's pretend I believe you," he smirked. "Look, I'll finish up here, that's okay."

"You sure?"

"Positive. We're nearly done anyway," he gestured towards the counter, where two dozen sandwiches mounted on a big plate. "Should be enough, I guess, even if Roger is around. AND we have some ice cream and tons of cookies you insisted on buying, so we're all set."  
Maureen nodded. "Okay. I need to wash my hair anyway," she put her knife on the table and moved closer to Collins. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "I wasn't thinking of Mark," she said softly. Their eyes locked.

As if Collins could read her mind, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I'll miss you too, Reeney."

They stood like that for a moment before Maureen pulled away and went to her bedroom. It was better than bursting out crying in Collins' face, she figured.

Hairbrush in hand, she headed for her bathroom, where she turned the water stream on and adjusted the temperature until it was perfect- not too hot and not too cold. She stepped out of her clothes and into the shower, pulling the cow printed curtain, a New Year's present from Collins, close behind her. She pushed her head under the water stream as her thoughts drifted to three nights ago, when she and Collins made Mark watch _Rocky Horror Picture Show_.

In one of Mimi's last days in the hospital, through a conversation they all had, they were horrified to discover that he had never watched it. Maureen and Collins wouldn't hear of it. They were Rocky fanatics;they even went to watch it live several times, lingerie and all. Unfortunately, there weren't any live shows in their area, so Collins just rented the film and the three of them watched it in their apartment. Mark's reaction was priceless. He sat like a small child between her and Collins, and looked as if he didn't even want to be there. Truth be told, they didn't really ask him if he wanted to watch it, so he didn't have much choice. He watched the first part silently, but for the rest of the time he had a frightened expression plastered on, as if he was expecting something to pop out of the screen and grab him. Maureen and Collins did their best not to recite lines and sing the soundtrack but couldn't hold themselves back when it came to the Time Warp. They had to do the Time Warp again.

And that was where Mark really got terrified.

She laughed aloud as she remembered his final statement as the credits faded away on the TV screen. Collins stopped the tape and both of them turned to face Mark, who stared at the screen for another second before he eyed them carefully. "That was… the weirdest film I've ever seen," he said eventually. She knew they'd never be able to convince him to watch it again.

She squeezed some shampoo into her hands and massaged it into her hair. She closed her eyes to prevent the foam getting into her eyes, and started singing one of her favorite Rocky songs.

She got to the chorus when a knock came at the door and put an abrupt end to her singing. The door opened a bit. "Maureen, I'm coming in," said Collins' voice, accompanied by a gust of cold air from her bedroom window.

What was he doing there? "What? Why? Give me five more minutes!" It was only Collins, but she hated when people interrupted her while she was taking a shower. Well, unless Mark was included under 'people', which was a whole different sto- Okay, DON'T go there, she warned herself.

Apparently, Collins ignored her protest. He came in and closed the door behind him. "You always say five minutes but you really mean an hour. That's why I lie and tell you the movie starts an hour earlier than it's supposed to."

So THAT'S why he does that! "Collins, get the hell out of here!" she laughed.

"Relax, I'm not gonna peek," he said as he opened something, which was most likely the medicine cabinet. Maureen kept listening. "Besides, I think I deserve to be in here. It's not my fault for what you've done… without even telling me about it! I thought I was your best friend!"

What she's done? What HAS she done? "Collins, what are you talking about?" she rinsed the shampoo off her hair slowly.

Collins snorted. "Oh, don't act like you don't know, girl! You did it again, that big IT that I told you to stop doing. And you're going to keep doing it again and again, and it's all for your own pleasure. Don't you think of other people?"

Maureen stared at the shower curtain in disbelief. He'd better not talk about what I think he's talking, she thought. "Collins, I don't have time for your preaching, the guys should be here any minute. Can we do this lecture some other time? It IS true that you're my best friend but still, I think it's none of your business what I do or when I do it."

Did he hear them that night when Mark stayed over? They were never too loud, they always kept in mind that Collins was asleep two doors down the hall. But then again, she wouldn't know if they were that night… not after she helped Mark get over his trauma from the film… But who was Collins to blame her it was all for her own pleasure? What did HE know anyway?

More rummaging noises, like he was looking for something in the cabinet. What the hell was he doing? "Hello? I think I should know!" said Collins. "We're not just talking about hand soap here, Maureen, this is genuine stuff, very special. You can't get the feeling it gives you anywhere else. And you just take it for granted!"

HUH? "Take it for granted? Collins, I'm NOT discussing this stuff with you, I have my limits! You ARE my best friend, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna talk to you about… about… THAT!" Exactly what I need, Mark knowing that I'm discussing our sex life with Collins, she thought bitterly as she snatched the conditioner bottle.

Collins huffed as if he disagreed. "Maureen, you're acting like a baby! We're both grown ups here, right? Besides, you're never safe with these things."

Maureen rolled her eyes as she massaged the thick cream into her skull and along her long hair. "Oh, so we're doing the safety lecture again? Come on, Collins, I can watch myself! As you well stated, I'm grown up, I know what happens if someone doesn't play it safe!" That was true. Both she and Mark were aware of the dangers and consequences of unprotected sex. It was enough that Roger, Mimi and Collins had AIDS, and they already lost April and Angel from the same reason. AND the last thing she needed was to get pregnant, which was a whole different story. "Gee, you sound like a dad, you know that?"

She heard the cabinet door close and another unrecognizable sound, accompanied by a noise of running water from the sink. A stream of very cold water made her jump back with a yelp. Now he was using her hot water?

Collins' voice was a bit strange when he answered, "It comes with age. And I don't think dads talk about this type of stuff, at least my dad never did."

"Neither did mine, but come on. Quit the lectures, Collins, I'm a big girl; we both are grown ups, we know how to keep it safe so don't you worry about it, okay?" Mark would absolutely DIE when she'd tell him about this conversation. First Collins tried desperately to get them back together, and now he was trying to give her the safe sex lecture! Unbelievable!

"Okay…" he said, then paused. "I'm just saying, be careful on how you screw, or else everything will be a mess. I mean it'll be white and gooey everywhere, know what I mean?"

Maureen's jaw nearly dropped. What was he trying to do? He said it so lightly, as if he wasn't talking about… about… "Collins, will you stop that? Come on, why are you still here? Not that it's any of your business, but I've never heard Mark complain, what makes you think that YOU can?" The last thing she wanted was to bring Mark into that weird conversation, but Collins didn't leave her any other choice. What they were doing was none of his goddamn business anyway.

"What?" he seemed surprised to hear Mark's name mentioned. And then, out of the blue, he added, "I didn't know Mark used Lancôme."

Maureen's hand, the one that was holding her hairbrush, froze halfway to her head. WHAT? "Collins, what the hell are you talking about?" What did Lancôme have anything to do with safe sex? Or with Mark, for that matters?…

More water sounds… "You know, he seems more like a Shiseido kind of guy."

She couldn't take it. Something was wrong, that conversation turned weirder with each passing moment. She stuck her head out of the curtain. "Collins, what are you-" she stopped abruptly as she noticed him hunched over the sink, rinsing something off his face. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

He turned to face her, his face dripping, and held an awfully familiar bottle in his hand. "Deep cleansing! A brother needs smooth skin too!" She stared at him shocked. "What did you think I was doing?" he added as he wiped his face gently with a small towel.

Maureen didn't really have an answer, so she sighed and disappeared behind the curtain again. "Don't you have your own bathroom?" she grumbled, "Why do you have to do it in mine?"

"I TOLD you, I needed to borrow your cream! Or take back what's legally mine, if you wanna be more precise… Weren't you listening to me?" He opened the cabinet again, obviously trying to find something else. What now, thought Maureen desperately. She hoped he wouldn't think of stealing her strawberry body mist just to piss her off.

"I WAS listening. I should have washed your mouth with soap for that. For God's sake, Collins, mind your own business, will ya? It's not our fault that you don't have sex life…"

Whatever Collins took out of the cabinet, he now dropped it into the sink. He sounded as if he was stifling a laugh as he said, very slowly, "Maureen… I wasn't talking about sex… I was talking about how you never take care of my cleansing products. How did you get that as sex?…"

Oh shit. Oh shit shit SHIT! So THAT was what he was talking about! Now she suddenly realized why the bottle he held looked so familiar… It was his new Lancôme facial cream wash, the one she took that morning and forgot to put back in place… again…

"Everything you said was just screaming sex!" she said defensively. She was grateful for that shower curtain. She was blushing madly. "Damn you, Collins…" she muttered as she washed the rest of the conditioner away.

"Sooo… someone's getting a little somethin' somethin', huh?"

She didn't need to look at him. She could tell by the sound of his voice that he had that wide stupid grin on his face. Her face turned impossibly redder. "Collins, STOP THAT right now!" Authority, control, don't let him win, she told herself fiercely.

Collins laughed. "No, it's too much fun." His voice sounded strange again. "What are you going to do about it anyway, Missy?"

Maureen shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "I'm NOT talking with you about this!"

"Aww, come on Maureen, we used to talk about things like this! We used to never keep secrets from each other."

Maureen's head snapped up as she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, really? So I suppose you should have told me about hiding Mark's camera in your closet?" she asked casually as she turned the water off. She took one hand out of the curtain. "Towel please?"

But no towel was thrown away at her. Collins hesitated, then asked seriously, "You… you found Mark's camera?"

"Yes, I did. Care to tell me why you hid it?" Sudden chill ran though her. She shivered. "And bring over that damn towel, it's freezing cold in here!"

Collins sighed desperately, completely ignoring her request. "You can never keep your hands out of my stuff, huh? I should have known."

Why was he trying to get away with it? Did he think she wouldn't notice? She was getting impatient. "Collins, give me that towel this minute!" she called, sticking her head out of the shower curtain once more.

She shrieked, startled, as she caught sight of him. He stood there with her towel in his hand and light green finishing touch cream on his face. Their eyes locked. He looked at her seriously. "Maureen, did you give that camera back to Mark?"

She nodded. She couldn't understand why he was making such a big deal out of it, but she had no reason to lie. "Yes, I did. That night when Mimi got into the hospital." Her teeth started chattering. Collins didn't even seem to notice. From the corner of her eye Maureen located another towel, hung on the back of the bathroom door, completely out of her reach. Damnit.

Collins looked deep in thought as he started murmuring things to himself. "That's why… that must be…" he raised his head to face her. "Was there something on that camera? Something on that camera that got you guys back together?" he held the towel behind his back now. "Was that it?"

Maureen didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Couldn't he see she was cold? "Collins, come on…" she sighed. "No, it wasn't what was on the camera, but you still didn't answer my question. Why it was hidden in your closet? When did you find it? Why didn't you tell Mark you had it all the time?"

He stood there silently, as if considering his next move. Then, with no further words, he dropped the towel on the floor and left the room hastily, closing the door behind him. Maureen stared at the closed door for a split second. Then the initial shock subsided, and she stepped out of the tub, snatched the towel from the floor and wrapped it around her. "COLLINS!" she opened the door and marched into her bedroom. He was nowhere to be found. "Collins, come here, that's an order!" she called, moving down the hall and into the living room. Her hair was dripping water all over the place but she didn't care. She had to find him.

A flash of green from behind the couch… She chased him there, but Collins was faster. He got away from her, jumping over a cushioned chair, and disappeared in the hallway.

In a hurry, Maureen forgot one very important fact. Collins was much taller than her. She toppled over the chair and crushed to the floor with a scream. She heard the door to Collins' bedroom being closed and locked. DAMNIT!

She pulled herself together quickly, got up, tightened the knot in her towel and hurried back to the hallway. "Collins, you are SO going to regret this!" she shouted, banging on his door. "I won't leave you alone until I get an explanation! You'll stay there and… and… and STARVE to death until you tell me everything!" Okay, so it came out a bit less convincing than she meant, but she hoped it still had the effect.

Or not… "All right…" he said. "I've got crackers in my desk's drawer!"

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Collins, you're such a baby! Come on, get out of there!" she banged on the door again. "I'm gonna break it!"

From some reason, he found that threat amusing. He laughed. "I'd like to see you try!"

"I'm calling Mark, he'll kill you for hiding his camera from him!"

"You can't blackmail me! I've done worse to Mark, he'll love me no matter what!"

"Well, I don't know how much he loves you after trying to play Cupid, but I do know that he loves ME, and I think I know what he'll do if it's me against you!" she retorted half heartedly. "Come on, Collins, you said we're grown ups so act like one and get out of there. Face your mistakes!"

She heard footsteps, and a key turning in the lock. A very offended Collins stood on the doorway, looking at her in a way he never did before. "I know my mistakes," he said, his tone cold and stern. "And don't you talk with me about who he chooses over who. Why did you think I tried so hard getting you guys back together? So I could get his everlasting love? I wanted YOU to have it, Maureen, so don't you even play that card." He sighed, as if he couldn't believe he had just said it, then left the door open and went to sit on his bed.

Maureen hesitated for a split second before she slowly followed him inside. She didn't even mean what she had said; it was a joke! Apparently, not a really good one. Collins seemed to be really hurt. He had never used that tone while speaking to her, not to mention that look… She dreaded that look. He used it to berate countless of students; she even witnessed several cases of that, but it was the first time he used it on her.

She sat next to him, suddenly serious. The game was over. "Collins…" she said softly. "I'm sorry." He said nothing. He couldn't even face her. She hated it when she made him upset. She sighed. "Collins, come on, look at me." A shiver went through her. She was freezing cold but suddenly it didn't matter. Might as well catch pneumonia, maybe that's what I deserve, she thought bitterly.

Collins turned to face her. His expression was blank behind the green goo that was slowly drying on his skin. "You should have told me you'd given the camera back, that you went through my things."

Maureen lowered her head, suddenly feeling very guilty and ashamed. "I didn't do it on purpose. I wanted to ask you about the camera but I completely forgot about it when Mimi**-"** Lame, lame, lame. She sighed and looked at him. "You're right, I should have told you. But that still doesn't explain why you kept it."

Collins had hard time answering, it seemed. He opened his mouth to speak, but soon closed it again, as if he wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he returned her look. "I… I didn't think you were ready for it. I didn't think he was ready for it. It was safer with me."

Now she was puzzled, and somewhat embarrassed. Did he watch it? Did he know the truth all along and kept it from them? "Ready for what? How did you know what was on it?"

"I didn't, but it all fitted together like a puzzle. Mark was here last when you both found each other in bed, and his camera was left behind. I mean, who knew what was on that camera. People do a lot of stupid things when they're under the impression of alcohol and I thought it would be too much. You guys were already pissed off at each other enough." Maureen watched him intently as he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. "Besides, this meant for Mark… focusing on other priorities, like relationships. I thought maybe being without his camera would open up his eyes a bit more, which is strange because I encouraged him to film to see the world through different perspectives…" he chuckled a bit.

Maureen smiled, and took Collins' hand in hers. "I'm sorry I took it without telling you," she said honestly.

Collins eyed her carefully. "You're not mad?"

"More embarrassed than mad," she laughed softly as she remembered their conversation in the bathroom earlier. She sneezed suddenly, making Collins jump back with a start. "And cold. Care to lend me a T-shirt?"

The doorbell rang, startling them both. "Uh oh, the guys are here. Fuck. You're half naked and I've got glop all over my face…"

They heard the front door creaking open and glanced at each other in terror.

"I thought you locked it when we came in!" whispered Maureen.

"Hello? I was holding all the bags, YOU were supposed to lock it!"

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Maureen recognized Roger's voice immediately. "Yeah, we'll be right there, guys!" she called, then looked seriously at Collins. "Let's keep this thing about Mark's camera between us, okay? I won't tell Mark that you had it if you won't tell."

Collins was about to answer but was cut off abruptly by Mimi's voice, "Maureen? Is everything okay, chica?"

"Yeah, I'm not dressed, give me a minute!"

Footsteps down the hall… they were coming closer. Maureen and Collins, in perfect unison, looked around the room for a place to hide. A knock came at Collins' bedroom door, and they looked at each other wide eyed. Shit.

"Collins?" asked Roger as he opened the door. He gaped as he caught sight of them. "Whoa, woops! Didn't know we were that early…"

Collins looked at Maureen, then at Roger. "Excuse us?"

"You guys help each other get dressed or something?" he asked, grinning goofily.

Since she was a bit shorter, Mimi tried to peer over his. She gasped as she caught a glimpse of Collins' green face and Maureen's nearly naked form.

Maureen frowned. "Do shut up, Roger." Then she realized that something… someone was missing. "Hey, where's Mark?" She could feel that Collins was rolling his eyes behind her back.

"He said he was going to drop by later, said he had some work to finish," said Roger. "I told him that would be alright." Then he stopped and looked at her, as if he needed approval. "It's all right, isn't it?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.

Maureen couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed, but at the same time, she knew it must have been something important, or he wouldn't have stayed behind. "Yeah, sure," she said.

"Oh, but let me present the wonderful Mimi Marquez!" Roger's grin widened as he looked over his shoulder, took Mimi's arm and gently pushed her forward. "She's BAAAACK! And looking fantastic!" he announced proudly.

Maureen smiled as Mimi stepped into the room. She did look well. She was still skinny, but definitely in better shape than she was in the hospital. She had on jeans and a red tank top. Her beautiful untamed curls were streaming down her shoulders. "Rog, stop it," she protested then looked more closely at Collins before she burst out laughing. "Collins, what is this gross thing on your face?"

"It's not gross, it's Lancôme!"

"You'd better wash it off, it was on way after the seven-minute limit," laughed Maureen. "I'm gonna get dressed. I'll be right with you guys." She left Collins' room and entered hers, closing the door behind her. She heard Roger make a remark about staying in that towel, but chose to ignore it. She changed quickly and joined Collins, Mimi and Roger in the living room a few minutes later.

An hour later, the four of them were sprawled all over the room with their food and drinks as Collins entertained them with some new jokes he happened to hear somewhere. They were in the middle of wild laughter when the doorbell rang. Maureen's heart lifted. She ran one hand through her still damp hair, trying to give it shape. She hoped Collins wouldn't catch her doing it, or he would tease her endlessly about it later.

He didn't. "It's open!" he called, still laughing hysterically.

The door was opened and Mark stepped inside. "Hey guys. I brought a friend," he said smiling. Someone entered right after him. Maureen recognized him instantly, and her eyes narrowed.

"ALEX!" Roger cried joyously, jumping off the couch towards him.

Collins was finally able to control his laugher. He smiled. "Alex… long time, no see."

Alex smiled and waved. "Hey everyone." Roger approached him and smacked his back playfully. Alex returned the gesture.

Maureen frowned. From what she last remembered, he was a total jerk. Worse than what Roger was when she first met him. Back at the time when she and Mark started going out, Alex was the drummer in Roger's band, and Roger's best friend, besides Mark of course. Roger and Alex always reminded her of the two grandpas from _The Muppets' Show_. They were inseparable, always laughing and doing stupid, immature things that they found terribly funny for some odd reason. They used to tease Mark mercilessly about… well, basically about being Mark, but, while in Roger's case, it was clear that he loved Mark as if he was his own brother, Alex was much more cruel. Maureen didn't like it. She couldn't understand how Mark kept up with someone as intolerable as Alex Meyers; he had never answered back, nor did he try to defend himself from Alex's insults and mockery.

And now, for some unknown reason, he was back into their lives, and standing in her apartment. She knew they all expected her to welcome him and be nice, so she decided to swallow her pride, for Mark's sake. She got up from the cushion she was sitting on and approached them. "Alex. It's been a while," she said quite coldly, trying her best to sound nice, though she couldn't stand the guy. He nodded in return, but said nothing. She turned to face Mark, and her features softened instantly. She flashed him a sweet smile. "And you. It's been too long…"

Mark took her hand and brought her closer for a kiss, ignoring Alex and Roger's concert of nasty remarks. He pressed his forehead against hers, and returned her smile. "You doin' okay?" he asked quietly.

"Missed you a little, but I'm doing great." She wanted to ask what was he thinking, bringing Alex there, but thought better of it.

"You make me sick," stated Roger.

She turned and shot him a glare. "Shut up, Roger." She smiled devilishly at Mark before kissing him again.

"ARGH!" protested Roger. "Don't be afraid, Alex, this sort of thing is usually temporary… usually… come on, man, where's that Alex we all know and love?"

"I'm just a bit stunned by these two," laughed Alex, gesturing Mark and Maureen. Then he seemed to notice Mimi, who was sitting on the couch. Maureen recognized the naughty sparkle in his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't changed much. He turned to face Roger, and winked at him. "Aren't you going to introduce your friend?"

Roger frowned. "Hands off, she's mine," he warned, but couldn't prevent the smile that appeared on his face as he looked fondly at Mimi.

Collins snorted. "Just introduce her, you jerk."

Roger shot Collins a look, and approached Mimi. "Alex, this is Mimi. Mimi, Alex is an old buddy of ours."

Mimi laughed. "Yeah, I realized that." She looked at Alex, who was slowly approaching her. "Hi Alex, nice to meet you," she held out her hand for a shake.

Alex took her hand and kissed it. "The pleasure is all mine, Mimi."

Maureen rolled her eyes. So typical. "Stay away from him, Meems," she advised.

"Okay, okay, enough Romeo," said Roger, eyeing Alex who was leering over Mimi.

"Nice bag, Mark," said Collins all of a sudden, "Been shopping?"

It was then Maureen noticed a peculiarly looking bag that Mark was holding in his other hand, the one that wasn't holding hers. Collins and Roger started teasing him about going into a pornography shop. Mark seemed uncomfortable, even a bit nervous, with their questions. He couldn't even look at her as he stammered something not very convincing about buying film reels and changed glances with Alex.

She didn't like it. Why was he hanging out with Alex again all of a sudden? He couldn't fool her. He was obviously up to something. When she tried to get it from him, he started that silly football game with Alex to which Roger soon joined in. She desperately tried to chase them, but they were way too fast for her. When she finally got hold on one, he would throw the bag over her head to the other. At some point she didn't even care about the bag; there was something in Alex's expression that irritated her. She knew this obnoxious spark from years before. It was like he knew she wanted to know what was in the bag, and he was about to do all he could to prevent her from getting it. She just felt like grabbing the damn bag and smacking him endlessly with it. She hated him so much.

Eventually she was completely out of breath. Instead of stopping their stupid game, it actually urged the bastards to move on. She glowered at Roger, who became a complete jerk once he hooked up with Alex again. She felt defeated and tired, so she tried to change tactics, but even that didn't work. She failed miserably in being seductive. It felt like she and Mark changed roles; now she was the one being seduced. She had to believe him that there was nothing in that bag. What else was she suppose to do? He looked at her so honestly, of course she trusted him. Besides, why would he lie to her?

Well, if she was about to lose, she would do it with some dignity. "If it IS pornography, I'm going to kill you," she whispered before she pulled him for a kiss. Then she pulled away and went into the kitchen to get coffee for everyone.

She had just closed the cupboard's door when a voice came behind her, startling her. "I can help you with these if you want."

Maureen turned, surprised. Alex's voice carried unfamiliar kindness. She eyed him carefully, trying to figure out what he was up to. "Sure. I mean, if you want to." She handed him a box of double stuffed Oreo's and nodded towards an empty plate on the counter. She put some water in the kettle for coffee. "I didn't know you were in town," she said casually. She preferred having a light conversation over an embarrassing silence. Anything was better than silence.

Alex glanced at her and smiled. "I never left," he said, then continued what he was doing.

Maureen shrugged and pulled out some tea bags for Mark and Collins. "You know, tea cleanses the body, but it has just as much caffeine as coffee, just in case you were trying something healthier." Alex shrugged. "It's an old myth."

She raised a surprised eyebrow. Hearing that from someone like Alex, who always favored alcohol over anything else, was very strange. "Since when do you know so much about the differences between coffee and tea? You work at Starbucks or something?" she couldn't help but be sarcastic.

Alex didn't seem to mind, though. He laughed. "Just something I picked up… you know, around."

"Where's 'around' exactly? I mean, you just disappeared on us, no one seemed to hear from you for months. Roger, Mark and you were always so close…"

"Yeah, and I thought that April would never commit a suicide," he said bluntly, as if he didn't even care that she did. "Funny how life goes, huh?"

He didn't even show up to April's funeral, she suddenly remembered. Was that possible that he hadn't changed a bit, that he was still the same insensitive jerk he was three years ago? She felt that she resolved all her issues with April by now, which was why she was bothered by the lightness his tone carried. He sounded like he didn't really care about her death, or about how devastated his best friend was afterwards. She narrowed her eyes. "If you find AIDS and death funny, yeah, you're probably right. I shouldn't be surprised, I guess. You always lived your life as if it was comedy. I wouldn't expect you to change that much," she said as she opened a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

Alex hesitated, as if he was thinking about what she had just told him. Then he looked straight into her eyes. "You know, Maureen, I have this philosophy. You laugh through life, you get on with it, you die. Right? And all that's left on your grave stone is the year you were born, dash, then the year you died. Those numbers… they don't matter. What matters is what you do with the dash. I laugh. I try to make everyone laugh. That's what I want people to think of when they see my dash," he stopped, and looked at her seriously. "And if you think I'm the same person I was three years ago, you're wrong."

Maureen was shocked for a moment. Philosophy and Alex were two completely opposite terms, as far as she was concerned. And then there was this accusation in his tone. She looked at him coldly. "Well, you seem to be the same. So far you didn't even try to prove me wrong so why would I think otherwise? Laughing through life is a great thing, but come on. Is that what you want people to remember you by eventually? Don't you wish for more? Don't you wanna be someone?" Man, when did she start sounding so much like her parents… or Collins?…

"I AM someone," said Alex. "I'm the father of a beautiful four-year-old. That's all that matters."

That statement caught Maureen completely off guard. She stared at Alex, jaw dropped. "You're… you're WHAT?" A four-year-old? It's been three years since she had last seen him… Something didn't seem to fit. Thousands of questions were whirling through her mind, but she didn't dare asking them aloud. Was he a father back then and she never knew? And if he was, how was it that they didn't know? Was it someone they knew?

Her reaction seemed to amuse Alex, who held out his hand for a shake. "Alex Meyers, father of beautiful Jacob Meyers, Caucasian, two feet three inches, adorable as a button."

He wasn't kidding. God, he wasn't kidding! Maureen stared at him completely shocked. A father! Alex Meyers, of all people! "How did it happen?" she asked quietly, and dared to look at him.

He flashed a mischievous grin. "You know me, I'm irresistible."

Maureen sighed. "Alex, come on. You said you've changed, now prove it. I'm serious."

"I have a kid, how much proof do you want?" He paused and took his wallet out of his pants' pocket. He pulled out a small photo and handed it to her. "That's him."

Maureen took the photo and smiled instantly. The boy who looked back at her was indeed adorable. He looked exactly like his father. His toothless grin melted her heart. "He's beautiful," she said as she handed him back the photo. She hesitated, then carefully smiled. "I guess I should apologize," she added, suddenly embarrassed. Up until she had seen the picture, she still believed he was trying to fool her.

"Why?"

"Because I just jumped into hasty conclusions, I've never thought you could possibly change…"

He was grinning again. "So, what, now you're assuming that I'm a good father?"

"Well, are you?" she shot back. "I mean all these girls parading in and out of your bedroom… or are you no longer doing that kind of stuff?"

"It's hard to get back into that world. Ever since Jacob… he's changed me. He means the world to me. But I still try to have fun… Well, as much fun as I can get," he smiled.

Maureen returned his smile. She felt herself soften. He had changed. He had proven her wrong.

"So how is it that you met Mark today?" For some reason, it was still bugging her.

"Roger teaches my son guitar. Ever since Jacob found out I played in a band, he wanted to do something too. Sadly, he didn't want to take up the drums," he frowned, then laughed softly. "So unfair."

She laughed as well. "Well, you should be grateful he didn't. Drums are noisy, especially if you don't know how to use it… but you should know THAT," she teased, smiling sweetly.

Alex stuck his tongue at her. "Ha ha!"

Before Maureen could respond, a piece of Oreo found its way into the cleavage of her black tank top. Surprised, she raised her head to face Alex, who burst out laughing at his hit. "Hey! Do not throw cookies in my kitchen!" she warned but couldn't stop smiling as she shook her tank top in a hopeless attempt to get rid of the cookie's crumbs.

Alex's face wore an innocent expression. "I only threw ONE," he said. He grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, broke it to two halves and launched one of them into her hair.

"Alex, STOP! I just washed my hair an hour ago!" she laughed. What a waste of very good cookies, she thought, just as he threw the other half at her, completely deaf to her protests.

She snatched a cookie, and raised her arm to launch it at him as revenge. He quickly grabbed her wrist, bringing her closer for a kiss.

Her heart stopped as Alex's lips touched hers. He didn't try to deepen the kiss or anything, and she didn't kiss him back, but he didn't seem to mind that. They just stayed like that for a moment before he pulled away and waited, watching her intently.

She eyed him carefully. "What was that for?"

He flashed a devilish smile. "Did you like it?"

She let out a short, nervous laughter, then gave him glare of disbelief. "What do you think?" she asked eventually, as lightly as she could, and added, "I won't fall for you, honey, I have my guy, remember?"

"Mark? God, he's such a loser," he teased, but she could tell he didn't mean it. "Thanks, Maureen," he added, unusually serious.

"For what?"

"For not slapping me when I kissed you," his eyes sparkled as he looked at her honestly. "I miss that." Their eyes locked, and Maureen broke away from their gaze first. She was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable having that kind of conversation with someone she considered as a complete jerk fifteen minutes ago. She turned away, busying herself by making coffee for everyone. Alex was quiet for a moment, then said, "You know what I just realized?"

She turned to face him again. "What?"

A wide, stupid, evil grin nearly cracked his face when he took one step back. "I kissed a lesbian," he said, and raced back to the living room with his arms high in the air. "SCORE!"

Maureen forgot all about the guys' coffee as she snatched a small towel from the counter and chased Alex into the living room, where everyone still looked puzzled by his statement. "HEY! You won't get away with it, Alex!"

"What's going on?" asked Mark.

"I kissed a lesbian!" repeated Alex excitedly. Maureen shot him a glare.

Mark looked stunned. "You did WHAT?"

Was he trying to ruin her relationship after everything she's been through to get it back? "Alex, SHUT UP!" she said just as she grabbed his wrist. YES! Mimi and Collins had to move and sit someplace else as she dropped Alex on the couch and tried to strangle him with the towel she still held. "Say you're sorry, Meyers…" she threatened, but couldn't stop laughing. Then her eye caught a more effective weapon. She snatched a stuffed pillow from the edge of the couch and threw the towel on the floor.

"Mark, your girlfriend's killing me!" Alex managed to squeak, hopelessly waving his arms as best as he could.

Mark didn't seem to listen. He still looked stunned by what Alex had said earlier. "You did WHAT?" he repeated.

"Mark, he has a kid! I think she's really gonna do it!" called Roger, somewhat panicked, from behind her back. She smirked and moved the pillow closer to Alex's face.

"Admit it, Maureen, you liked that kiss!"

"I could have slapped you right there, now I wish I did! Just say you're sorry or I'll kill ya! Think of your poor kid, spending the rest of his life with Roger as his father!"

Alex looked horrified by the idea alone. "Anything but that!" he begged.

"Hey, wait a minute!" said Roger. No one seemed to listen. Maureen glanced at him, then looked back at Alex.

"I'm sorry Maureen, I'M SORRY!"

"Louder, I can't hear you!"

"I'M SORRY OH MIGHTY DIVA! I have forsaken thee now get your hands off me!"

Better. She smiled sweetly at him but didn't remove the pillow from his face. "And?…"

"And what?"

"And YOU'LL NEVER SAY THESE THINGS AGAIN! Or you'll regret it!" She threw the pillow in his face, laughing. "You're so pathetic, Meyers…"

Alex sat up, coughing. He took couple of deep breaths as if to gather some lost oxygen, then looked at Maureen, who was standing again. He stood up as well. "You're so lucky you look the way you do… just don't come crying to me when you sleep next to Mark and all you can dream about is me."

"You know I've been pretty quiet, don't make me get up," commented Mark, who was sitting across from Alex on an armchair.

Maureen smiled victoriously at Alex. "Be afraid. Be very afraid," she advised him.

Suddenly he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. His arms tightened around her waist as he leaned her back expertly for a kiss. "Oh, I'm very afraid," he said teasingly after their lips parted.

"Hey, come on," Mark protested and was about to get up, but Roger restrained him.

"You know Alex, he's always been an asshole," he said, glaring at Alex.

"Don't you just love it?" asked Alex as he helped Maureen straighten up again. She just stared at him. She couldn't believe he had just kissed her again, and in front of MARK of all things! What was he THINKING?

"You need to get laid," she said. Alex winked at her and snaked his arms around her waist again, completely ignoring the shock on Mark's face. "Hey, hands OFF, honey!"

Surprisingly, it was Roger who reacted first. He moved closer to them and released Maureen from Alex's death grip. Then he jokingly grabbed Alex by the collar. "Alex, I didn't want to do this…" he started, then dragged Alex to the couch that was now occupied again by Mimi and Collins. "Just sit there and shut up."

Maureen moved closer to the armchair where Mark was still sitting, and looked at him carefully. "Hey, HE started it, you know," she said softly, looking down at him with innocent puppy's eyes.

Mark hardly smiled as he replied, "I know." Then, with no warning, he grabbed her hand. Maureen lost her balance and toppled forward. She landed in his lap, laughing. "MINE," he stated, staring at Alex with a huge smile as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

"He's always been possessive," remarked Alex quietly, but loud enough for all of them to hear it.

"Oh yeah," agreed Roger.

Maureen chose to ignore them as she lost herself once again in Mark's eyes, before she leaned forward to kiss him, completely deaf to a new choir of protests.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"What is THIS?"

Mark sighed wearily, although he was smiling inside. Roger had just walked into their loft, and halted when he looked up. He was giving Mark an appalled look.

"I redecorated- just for tonight!" said Mark quickly, as Roger slowly stepped into their living room. His jaw was open as his eyes gazed from wall to wall.

Mark had spent all day adorning the living room with new accessories, and furnishing their run-of-the-mill sofas and tables with more color and jazz. He was able to get all these things from previous independent films and projects when he was just getting familiar with film and cinematography, so he was lucky he kept them. He had cloaked three enormous violet drapes over the windows, but he tied the ends so the afternoon sunlight streamed through. The couch was cloaked with an Arabian carpet, and on each end were two huge pillows embroidered with beads and fine traditional stitching. There were vanilla scented candles perched everywhere, not many, but enough to light a gentle dim. Right in the middle of the living room was their small dining table with a simple white table cloth hanging a third from the floor. There was a rose set in the middle, and plates set for two.

"What's that smell?" asked Roger, sniffing the air.

"Oh, I've got something on the stove that I want you to try," said Mark.

Roger shook his head viciously. "No mas! No mas!" He grinned as Mark gave him a weird look. "I've been learning a few words from Mimi."

"One more dish. Shrimp." Mark went into the kitchen to check on his food.

"I've been eating your cooking for the past two weeks for this stupid dinner, and frankly Mark, I'm sick of it," he said plainly. He was looking over their loft again, this time with a huge grin on his face. "I've never seen this place look so... nice. You have to take a shot of this."

"What?" asked Mark, turning the knob on the stove, reducing the flame.

"Get your camera!" said Roger. Mark went over to him, a bit confused and saw Roger sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed on top of the cushions. "Look... high-classed."

Mark shook his head, laughing. He took his camera rested upon its tripod into the living room, and panned across. "May 13, 6:30PM give or take a minute. We screen, Roger sitting on a Middle Eastern culture and arts theme couch specially recreated for Miss Johnson's birthday. Cut." He turned it off.

"If you're not going to taste my cooking, then you have to get out," said Mark.

"I'll go, I'll go," said Roger getting up, "I'd rather not die tonight anyway. When can I get home?" Mark gave him a look and Roger smiled. "I'll come back in the morning."

"Good idea," replied Mark as he shooed his friend away. He closed the door, and wondered what else he had to do. Think Mark, he told himself. Okay finish cooking, get dressed, wrap her gift. He still had plenty to do and about three and a half hours to do it. He had mailed Maureen flowers that day telling her to come at exactly 11PM for a surprise dinner. He hoped he could do everything on time.

Three hours. Three hours left, and Mark was already panicking. He couldn't figure out what he wanted to cook, so he cooked New York styled steak, cinnamon dipped shrimp, Alfredo fettuccini, and dessert. Okay so the themes didn't match, but Mark was too excited, too nervous, to care. He tried to remember everything Maureen liked, and well... she liked being diverse. Of course, he figured that out instantly. For all he knew, she could be in the mood for anything, so it was better to be safe than sorry. He wanted everything to be perfect, and it wasn't helping that he was sweating like a pig.

Two hours. Two hours left and he finally finished wrapping the present. It took him a while to wrestle with the scotch tape and the gift wrapper, which seemed to have a mind of its own. He had just taken a shower and gotten dressed. He was wearing a suit, black pants with a white long-sleeved dress shirt. He didn't want to wear a tie, since they weren't going anywhere, and just threw on his black suit jacket quickly. He gelled his hair for the first time ever, not counting the time Collins had put on that godforsaken grease on him. Now it actually looked alright. It was a bit messy and parts of his hair veiled over his face which gave him a dorky rock look, since he still had his glasses on. This was the best he could do, and he hoped that it was enough for Maureen. He was so nervous, he was nearly shaking.

One hour. One hour left, and the steak wasn't even ready. He had taken off his jacket, and threw it hastily on his chair at the table. The heat and smoke from the kitchen made him feel a bit hot, so he undid the top three buttons on his shirt, which bore a bit of his skin. He also rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and opened a window for a bit more breeze. The drapes were still tied, and the moonlight replaced the sun. When the steaks began to sizzle, he threw on a red apron that read "Kiss the Cook" to keep from getting dirty. At that moment he came to realize something shocking. To do all this, thought Mark hopelessly, I really must love the girl...

Five minutes. Five minutes left and his noodles were still on the stove! Gah! He had taken off his glasses because it kept steaming up, so he was half blind when a knock came at the door. He stumbled over the chair, and quickly put on his eyeglasses. He ran to the windows and shut the one that was open. He untied the drapes so it would cover the moonlight, and it became a bit more dim. The candles were lit, and soft music played in the background. He threw his apron off and tossed it near the counter. Please, please, begged Mark silently, let me not make a fool of myself.

He made his way to the door and opened it. His heart lifted, then froze into place. There in the doorway stood of what he considered was the most gorgeous creature on Earth. A lump got stuck in his throat as he admired Maureen's beauty. It almost felt like the first time they met. He thought she was stunning, and he couldn't get two words out. And now, it felt the same way, but he tried all his might to be strong.

"Wow... Maureen..." That was all he could say. No good evening, or hello.

Maureen stood there with a slight curve upon her gentle red lips. Her dress was of a dark ruby hugging her in all the right places, revealing her slender curves, as her collar wrapped around her swan-like neck. Her hair showered down her shoulders, straight and shiny, illuminating her beautiful hazel-colored eyes.

"Come in," said Mark dully, and let her enter. She walked in, and Mark's eyes sparkled. Her back was totally bare, her dark hair streaming along her milky light skin like silk. A nice crease ran long her back that made Mark feel almost faint. He gulped.

"So I got these flowers this morning with a note..." she started, turning to him as he closed the door. "... from one Mark Cohen who invited me here for an early birthday surprise... do you know anything about it?" She looked at him closely, holding up a small note, and smiled.

"No not at all," he said, quickly snatching the piece of paper, crumpling it, and throwing it over his shoulder. "I hope you're surprised." He leaned over to kiss her. "You couldn't possibly look any more beautiful."

"Thanks," she said. She tugged on his shirt a bit, straightening it out fondly. "You look good too."

He smiled meekly. "Thanks."

She looked around, her eyes dancing around the new living room. "What the hell happened here? It actually looks good for a change." Her eyes met his, and she smiled. "You did all this?"

He returned her smile. "Yeah... well... I wanted it to be romantic enough."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him. "I love it. I love you." Mark held her tight, not wanting to let go, and responded, "I love you too." He pulled away slowly, and steadily traced his hand on her shoulder, and down her arm. He held her hand, and kissed the back of it. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to finish cooking."

This took her by surprised. "Excuse me?" He merely grinned, and went into the kitchen. He stirred the noodles a bit, and it seemed that she followed him in.

"What are you doing?" she asked, still in shock.

"Cooking. Is there something wrong?"

"Marky... you cooked? I... I don't know what to say! I didn't even know you knew how to cook!"

"I don't!" he grinned proudly. "But I think I did well. I practiced on Roger a few times. He got food poisoning once or twice, but by the fifth try, he didn't throw up." All jesting aside, he kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry, you'll love it."

"I know I will," she responded smiling. "And now that I know that you're handy in the kitchen, I think I'll keep you!"

A bit of water splattered from the pot, and he moved back a bit. He grabbed the red apron, and threw it on him, trying to avoid Maureen's sexy stares. He started to feel a bit nervous again inside, but he focused on cooking... haha, right... cooking...

"Pasta," he answered her thoughts. "It's the only thing left. Everything else is ready, see." He pointed to the counter, which laid a dish of steaks, shrimp, and a bowl covered with a white and blue handkerchief. "Just need to finish the noodles. Sauce is all ready."

"Well leave it for a second, and come here," she said, as she took the tong away, and set it down. She interlaced her fingers with his, and pulled him close for a lingering kiss. Mark liked that, her strawberry fragrance spoiling the air redolently.

Once they pulled away Mark asked, "What was that for?"

"Your apron told me to do it," she said huskily, "so I did."

"You are so vulnerable to advertisements." He kissed her once more. "Now go sit down, and I'll be done in a minute." He grabbed the shrimp dish from the counter, hoping to distract her. He picked a shrimp. "Here. It's good."

"No I wanna wait for you. You want me to take it there?"

He pulled it out of reach, away from her. "No!" He didn't want her to lift a finger. This was her birthday dinner, and he just wanted her to enjoy. He pouted. "Take one. Please? They're appetizers."

"Okay," she said reluctantly, and he fed her a shrimp. She chewed and swallowed thoughtfully and smiled. "Hey that's pretty good! I'm definitely keeping you now!"

"Hey, I'm not your slave!" he said teasingly, and walked over to the dinner table to lay the dish down. He pulled out a chair for her. "M'lady? I can't do the accent. Not like Roger."

"That's okay, I don't like the accent anyway," she said walking to him. She poked him gently. "And yes you are my slave, at least for my birthday." She giggled. "My birthday slave!"

"Okay..." he said slowly, as she sat on the chair. "But only because it's your birthday."

He walked back into the kitchen, and finished the noodles. He added the Alfredo sauce, and placed it with the rest of the dishes. He wiped his hands on a small towel, and checked up on Maureen. Her eyes beamed.

"It's good that you placed your camera at a high spot this time, so in case something happens we can actually SEE what goes on," she said nodding over to the camera.

CRAP! He totally forgot it was there. "Shit." He ran to it and took it off from its tripod. "Wouldn't want Roger to find anything like that lying around."

"Yeah, that or anything that follows..." she was smiling seductively. He smirked and brought the plate of juicy steaks besprent with light sauce and gravy.

"Sorry," he said biting his lip. "Steak's not very romantic."

"Will you stop worrying? Everything looks great." She laughed softly. "I can't believe you did all this for me."

He sat down across from her and gazed at her honestly. "I'd do anything for you." He placed the napkin on his lap. "Bon appetite." Mark devoured the steak, but Maureen only managed to eat half. It wasn't huge; it was quite small in fear that it would clash with the other dish. They sipped a bit of red wine, and engaged in a hearty conversation. It was strange because it was the most normal, yet amazing date ever. And he and Maureen hardly had any "normal" dates. She acted sweet and kind, and more quiet then usual while he did most of the talking, and made her laugh. It was almost as if they switched roles. Mark looked at her lovingly as she replied to him. They changed each other. They brought out the best out of one another. The eyes of the world would have never believed the scene that was taking place. And he felt good about that- that there was a secret of only his and Maureen's knowledge. Their own little secret.

After the main dish, Mark stood up and sighed. He glanced at the clock nonchalantly. Few minutes until twelve. Perfect. Okay, don't mess this up, Cohen, he thought. Maureen looked at him thoughtfully.

"I would like to make a toast to the stunning Maureen Johnson," he started cornily, but tried to go on with some dignity. "She's made my life worth living."

"Don't you want to turn your camera on?" she asked sweetly, yet facetiously.

"Do you want to hear me talk about you or not?" he asked grinning. Maureen pursed her lips and watched attentively. Mark continued. "I never thought that I would find someone that would make me feel so... alive inside. You've unraveled a part of me that expresses my more open side, and gives me the most wonderful feeling I believe I would never have received from anyone else. I've always loved you Maureen, from day one. The worst possible thing that could ever happen is, or was...when you left me. I never thought I would feel this way ever again. And it's true. I can never feel the same way about anyone. You're everything I've hoped for, you're very special to me. And I only hope that you'd return my love, and that you'll have a great birthday tomorrow. So I raise my glass... and you bet your ass to la vie de amour."

Maureen stared at him for the longest time, taking in everything he said. He hoped that he didn't frighten her away, but she looked as if she was about to cry. Her eyes glistered, and she stood up, putting her napkin on the table. She approached him slowly.

"It's already the best birthday ever," she said quietly, looking at Mark in a way he's never seen before. "You're everything I've ever hoped for too... I was just stupid not to realize it at first." She took the glass away from his hand and set it on the table. She moved closer to him and Mark couldn't help but sink into her eyes. "I love you and I'll always remember this birthday because of you." She slowly leaned closer. "I'll love you forever," and she drew close to kiss him.

Mark held her face with the palm of his hand. "Not yet," he said lowly, and leaned his forehead against hers. He looked out of the corner of his eyes to look at the clock. Five, four, three... He kissed her gently then more sweetly, and pulled away.

"Happy birthday," he whispered softly and looked over at the clock. Her gaze followed his, and she looked at the clock for a second. She then smiled.

"Thank you Mark. I love you," and she kissed him.

They talked for a bit more before moving over to the couch to be more comfortable. Maureen took her wine glass with her, but Mark left his on the table. He didn't drink much of it. Ever since that night, he became very wary about drinking any type of alcohol for any type of occasion.

"Collins is leaving in two days," she said sorrowfully. "We're going to finish packing his stuff tomorrow. Is it okay if you help move out everything?"

"Sure, of course," he replied sitting next to her. "He's going to Jersey huh?"

"Yeah I can't believe this." She was clearly upset, but Mark would fix that in a bit. "I'm trying to convince myself that he deserves this job because he does, but God, I'll miss him so much. But then again, I have YOU to help me recover." She tossed her hair a bit, and Mark adored the way she carried herself. "Dinner was really great Mark, thanks."

"I hope you have room for dessert," he said, with a hint of roguery.

She raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Well, my dress is about to explode, but... what do you have in mind?"

He stood up and walked over to the counter, removed the handkerchief and revealed a bowl of ripe peaches. "A bit of fruit. Peaches?"

"Sure," she said smiling. He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door. He hoped that the damn thing was working. Luckily it was, and he took out a carton of vanilla ice-cream, which thankfully didn't melt in that old refrigerator. He closed the door, and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, and a spoon from the drawer. He stayed quiet, and grinned at her slyly.

Maureen watched him carefully, a devilish smile curling on her lips. "Marky, what are you up to?"

"Nothing..." He grinned wider and tried to look away from her. He feared that he would give too much away if he looked directly at her. The least he could do is act cool about it. Somewhat embarrassed about his intentions, yet excited at the same time, he opened the carton of ice-cream and began to take up a few scoops into the bowl. Afterwards, he calmly walked to the pantry and took out a tiny glass bottle of honey, and a jar of caramel. Trying to suppress naughty thoughts, he grinned at her again, stifling a chuckle.

Maureen took a sip of her wine. "You are Mr. Mystery tonight, huh?"

He brought over the bowl of ice-cream, and bowl of peaches and set it in front of her on the small coffee table. He winked at her then went back into the kitchen to get the honey and caramel. "No touching," he advised her strongly.

"Oooh, is that a warning?" Her fingers touched the tip on the bowl of ice-cream. "What will you do if I will?"

He brought the bottles over and placed it next to the dessert. He got close to her and whispered, "You don't want to know." He simpered, and walked away to fetch his wine glass.

"Hmm... now I'm kinda curious..." she said delicately.

He blushed slightly, thanking God that everything was going so well. He was trying to take up every bit of courage he had left in him. Taking up his glass, he swished it gently, bobbing his head a bit like a wealthy businessman. He thought that would make her laugh, but unfortunately it didn't. Man, I blew it, he thought desperately. "I looked really stupid doing that, didn't I?"

"No, actually you look kinda cute."

He smiled humbly. "Thanks." He sat next to her, and raised his glass. "To us."

"To love," she replied. They traded smiles, clanked their glasses together, and took a sip. Her eyebrows scrunched slightly, and she rubbed the back of her heel.

"My feet are killing me," she said biting her lips, trying to adjust the straps.

"Here, take them off," he said, patting his lap. She brought leg up and set her foot on his lap. He slowly removed the straps of her high heels, and slipped them off. He did the same with the other foot. She smiled gratefully, and he slipped out of his shoes as well. He brought the bowl of ice-cream closer to the edge of the table.

"Caramel or honey?" he asked.

She flashed him a devilish smile, and took off his glasses, laying them aside. She looked at him wickedly. "You choose."

"Hmm..." He thought for a moment, then took the spoon from the bowl and poured a teaspoon of honey. He raised both eyebrows indicating her to taste it. He slipped it into her mouth, her lips sucking of the nectarous flavor.

She smiled, licking her lips. "That's not bad. Wanna try it?" She gently poured another teaspoon and fed it to him, her eyes leering at him, a curl at the corner of her lips. The honey was pure, sweet, and warm as it melted down his mouth.

"I prefer caramel," he said, and scooped of thick caramel with the spoon. He brought it to her lips, and she opened her mouth slightly to endure the liquid. She seemed to have liked the caramel as she suckled on the spoon, but he quickly pulled it away, teasing her. A drip of caramel began to trail down her chin, so he placed his lips on her mouths, licking the trickles, then kissing her gently. She tasted so good.

"Sorry," he said abashed. She shook her head gently and took the spoon from him. She placed it near the counter, then gave him a passionate kiss. When she pulled away, she smiled. Mark felt his own lips forming into a happy grin. Wait, what was he doing? Oh yeah... "So caramel or honey?" He suddenly remembered the ice cream.

"The caramel does taste better... but I don't know how that would go with the peaches..."

"You wanna find out?" he asked grinning. He took a peach from the bowl, and dug a nail into the fruit. Okay, gotta remember how this is done, he thought for a minute. He peeled it carefully, removing the skin perfectly as a whole, revealing a voluptuous fruit. He tore a piece and dipped a small amount with caramel. It became a bit messy though, and the liquid dripped onto his fingers, but he knew that beforehand. He placed the peach on her lips, but pulled it away as she opened her mouth slightly. He chuckled.

"Hey not fair," she said, taking the wrist of the hand which held the fruit. She brought it to her mouth with a seductive smile, and ate the peach off his hand, sucking on his fingers sleekly. He tried to stay calm, trying not to let that arousing feeling get control of him. He let his fingers touch her chin, and brought her over for another kiss, a bit more urgent this time. She tasted so sweet, so delicious... He pulled away quickly, his mind everywhere.

"Let's finish the ice-cream before it melts," he said quickly. She gave him an evil glare, and took the bowl of ice-cream. She took a spoonful, and moved closer to him, whispering, "Open up."

He obeyed, and let her feed him most of the vanilla ice-cream. He bit on the spoon a few times so she would have difficulty getting it back. He took off his shirt, afraid of getting it stained, and she seemed to like it as well. She observed him watchfully as he threw it aside. Before he let her finish, he couldn't help but kiss her gently. She carefully placed the bowl on the table as she went deeper into the kiss. He slid his hand on her back, and drew her in closer. She pressed up against him, straddling him so she was on top. "Don't wanna ruin the dress... kinda expensive..." she murmured in between.

He took the hint, and slowly pulled away from her kiss. He felt the bow from the back of her neck and pulled the strand of the bow. It untied, and the straps laid in front of her, baring her shoulders. He kissed and caressed the naked skin on her neck and shoulders, and slowly pulled the front of her dress down to reveal black satin lingerie. He trailed his mouth downward to her chest as his hands found their way down her waist. He felt a zipper and tried to pull it down intensely, but with no luck.

She huffed a bit, which sounded like a satisfied chuckle, and brought her hand to his to help him pull the zipper down. He slowly slid the dress down, and it sunk onto the floor. Mark had to take a minute to look at how beautiful she was. The lingerie fitted so well, a single string wrapped around her neck, and outlining down her breasts, and loosening toward her waist. He pushed her gently so she would lie on her back, and that he would be on top. He kissed her some more, biting her bottom lip gently, and caressing her with his tongue. Her hands moved to the side of his upper body, and kneaded them up and down, then made their way to his chest. God, he liked how that felt, her soft hands gently rubbing against his. She snaked her hands to his pants and unbuttoned the two buttons, and pulled the zipper down. Slowly, she pulled his pants down, pushing him slightly, avoiding direct skin-to-skin contact. She was teasing him, he knew it. Her slender leg curved up, and rubbed against his pants, and she pulled it off by sweeping it down.

Mark was now in his midnight blue boxers. He continued to brush his lips against hers, trailing his mouth along her neck and earlobe. He stopped for a minute, and his eyes caught the bowl of ice-cream left on the table. He reached for it without getting up and pulled himself up a little. He looked at Maureen, who was waiting.

"Sit up a bit," he said. She had this roguish spark in her eyes as if she knew what he wanted, and she did as she was told.

He took a spoonful of what was left of the ice-cream, which was slowly melting in a thin moat of vanilla water. A few driblets fell and he inserted it through her lips, the icy cold liquid dripping, contacting nude skin on her body. She gasped as the cold ice-cream trickled down her flesh.

She smiled sexily. "Shit Mark, that's cold... couldn't you have started with the caramel?"

He shook his head no. "Uh-uh." This was exactly what he wanted. He led his mouth down her body, laying her down again. He began to lick the spots of vanilla on her skin, sucking it softly. He then started to trail a soft line of vanilla liquid up her body to her mouth, where he sprinkled it gently over her lips. He followed the trail, sipping every bit of the sweet vanilla up her chest, until he reached her lips to where he kissed her fiercely, dropping the bowl of ice-cream without regret. He moaned softly, and began exploring every bit of her.

"You are evil, evil, evil," she uttered, as she groped his body to come closer. Her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, urging him forward. Mark knew she wanted more, and he tried his best to give her all she wanted.

"Not that evil, am I?" he asked softly, and he stretched his arm for another bowl on the table. He found it but struggled in getting a hold of it. He grabbed it and left it on the floor beside them, and reached for a piece of a peach. He traced the fruit on her skin, her chest, leaving the juice behind. He traced it all the way to the tip of her mouth, and she bit into it passionately. She put her arms around his neck, and suddenly flipped him over, so that she was on top. This took Mark by surprise because he was so much in control. The tips of her hair tickled along his skin, and Mark couldn't help but smile. She smiled at him seductively.

"My turn..." Her hand snatched the caramel from the table, and stuck two of her fingers in it and swooped some up. She laid it on his lips, and he sucked it softly. She pressed herself against him even more, her warm flesh against his. More, he wanted to say. Her hands stroked his hair, and her lips wanted to bite his neck, he could feel it. His fingers tried not to grip her skin, but the urgency was becoming unbearable. He traced his finger down to her black panty. He wanted to slip them down. He wanted her. He held his finger in place.

"Maureen... I don't want to hurt you."

Her voice was husky, her eyes dark with desire. "You will never be able to hurt me, no matter how hard you tried."

He smiled, looking into her deeply, in love, in lust. "Maureen, I love you."

"I love you too." She lightly placed her lips on his affectionately. "Do you wanna play some more with these or do you wanna move to your bed...?"

He smiled at her quite mischievously, and turned her over, kissing her once more, down her chest, biting the breast line of her lingerie a bit. He tugged it with his teeth, taking control. He got up slowly and slipped his arms under her. She looked at him lovingly, and Mark couldn't have asked for anything more. He carried her into his bedroom, the flame of the candles still burning in the night.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…"

Maureen slowly opened her eyes to the sound of singing. Mark's voice was still hoarse from sleep, but surprisingly on tune. He was lying behind her; one of his arms was draped over her waist. He was singing softly into her ear. She giggled and leaned back closer to him as he stopped singing and started nuzzling her neck. She let him do that for a moment before she moved to lay on her back, facing him.

"You look exhausted," she noted smiling. "I hope I didn't tire you out."

He smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. "I was thinking the same thing. How are you feeling?"

Maureen frowned. "Kinda old, actually."

Mark laughed softly. His eyes were sparkling. "How can you possibly feel old?" he asked, planting a small kiss on her forehead. "You're beautiful."

"Being beautiful has nothing to do with me being old. Besides, beauty is in the eye of the observer." She stopped as she suddenly realized what she had just said. "Gee, did I just sound like Collins or what?"

Mark smirked and sat against the bed board. "The guy rubs off on us once in a while, although I'd like him to be aware of who he's rubbing…" She must have looked distracted, because he stopped and looked at her. "And I'm rambling, right?"

Maureen let out a tired laughter and sat up as well. "Yes you are," she said yawning, and laid her head on his chest. She let her finger move lazily up and down his arm.

"Sorry. I daze off when I get lost in your eyes." He said it in exaggeration, as if he knew it was the corniest line in the book. She raised her head from his chest to meet his gaze and he touched the side of her face, bringing her close for a lingering kiss.

"I can get used to that," she murmured once they broke apart. She felt Mark's smile on her skin as his lips trailed their way down her face and settled at the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes as he kept kissing her. "Hey, Marky?"

"Hmmm…"

His voice vibrated against the skin of her neck, and for a moment she lost all thought. It felt so good… What was she about to ask? Oh, right… "There's this small box at the top of your closet-" She felt him tense the moment she said the words. He stopped nibbling at her neck and just stayed frozen, waiting for her to continue. "It has pictures in it. Of me." She pulled away reluctantly. She had to face him. She had to know. "You kept it after I dumped you. Why?"

He glanced at her carefully, and she immediately regretted asking this. His expression turned blank. His eyes became cold and somewhat distant. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to take his eyeglasses from the nightstand. He put them on, and looked at her seriously. "How did you know that?"

Maureen hesitated. Guilt slowly started tormenting her. She knew how what she was about to say would sound, but she couldn't lie to him. She finally won his trust, the last thing she wanted was to lose it again. "When I came here to bring your shirt back, I wanted to put it in your closet and that box fell down, and you know me, always curious," she laughed nervously and glanced at him carefully before she whispered, "So I took a look."

Mark stared at her in disbelief. "You snooped through my stuff? Through my things? What did you expect to find?" His tone was gradually rising, but he didn't seem to be aware of that. He sounded hurt. She knew he would be. Mark was always vulnerable when it came to one of two things- his work and his privacy. And it all sounded so damn familiar, too, which made her even more upset. Why do I always end up looking through someone's closet, she scolded herself. Why can't I do something right for a change?

Mark touched her chin, making her face him. She had hard time looking him back in the eye. "I'm not angry with you, Maureen," his tone was softer now. "But this was when we weren't together and you still invaded my privacy."

Maureen nodded. She felt so ashamed of herself. She hated to let him down. "I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't even know why I did."

"Did it… upset you? Or worry you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Was it supposed to upset me?" She paused and tried to think back of that day when she had seen the photos. "I don't know, I guess it just… brought back old times. It was actually kind of fun looking at them, knowing that our past is preserved forever. But I'm still wondering. Why? Why would you keep them?"

Mark took a deep breath and started talking quietly. "I… wanted to hold on to you. It gave me a chance to believe in us every once in a while when I forgot that we're destined for each other. Sometimes it just gives me a happy feeling when I'm feeling sad. The happiest time of my life was when I was with you," he looked at her honestly. "You don't know how much you mean to me."

Maureen felt her eyes filling with tears. She took Mark's hand and kissed it, then looked back at him. "I do know. And I'm sorry I snooped around, I… Damnit, I'm so embarrassed now…" Her voice trailed off as she lowered her head.

Mark wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "Forget it. It's all in the past now, okay?"

She wanted to say that she couldn't forget, but stayed quiet. She listened to his heartbeat as he ran his fingers through her hair. They said nothing for several minutes, but eventually Mark broke the silence.

"Okay, you ready for your birthday gift?"

Maureen raised her head from his chest and gave him a puzzled look. "What birthday gift?" She flashed him a devilish grin. "I thought I already got it yesterday."

Mark's face turned slightly pink as he smiled sheepishly at her. "Ahh, yeah, but that was more a gift for me than it was for you…" he rambled. She giggled. He was such a dork sometimes. "ANYWAY!" He jumped out of bed and her gaze followed him as he opened his closet and pulled something out of the top shelf. It was a box, wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a silver ribbon. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to her with a brilliant smile. "Happy birthday."

Maureen returned his smile as she took the box from him. She shook it, but nothing echoed back. It was pretty big box, so she knew it wasn't any jewelry or something of that kind. What was it? "Should I tear it?" she asked smiling.

"Sure. If you want," answered Mark as he pulled his jeans over the boxers he was wearing.

Maureen tore the wrapping paper excitedly to reveal a pearly colored box that carried a familiar logo. She gasped. It couldn't be what she thought it was… He couldn't…

"Mark…" she started, but her voice trailed off as she opened the box. An icy pink nightie laid neatly folded on a bed of scented dry rose petals. It was mostly satin, and she noticed a bit of lace along the breast line. Its design was very simple, but yet sexy at the same time, in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was something she would have never imagined she'd buy for herself, yet at the same time she knew Mark couldn't have chosen anything better. It was perfect.

"Well, well, well…" she muttered and shot him a mischievous look. "Do you mean to tell me that you, Mark Cohen, went into a lingerie shop to buy this thing… all by yourself?" She couldn't help but sound proud.

"Well… I had a little help, but… there's a first time for everything. AND a last," he added quickly before pulling a red T-shirt over a long sleeved white one.

Maureen laughed softly and looked at the nightie again. The fabric felt soft between her fingers. It looked almost white in the morning light. "Don't have anything pink… yet." She raised her eyes to meet Mark's gaze. She smiled. "Thank you."

Mark moved closer to place a soft kiss on her lips. "You're welcome."

"Do we have time for coffee before Roger gets home?" she tousled his hair.

"Sure. I'll go make some. Get dressed, I'll meet you in the living-room."

Luckily, she had some of her own clothes in Mark's closet, so after a quick shower she put them on and walked into the living room.

She could feel that the magic of the previous night wore off as she stepped into the room. The beautiful violet drapes on the windows were tied now, and the room was fully lightened by the morning sun. Mark's suit and her dress were now folded on the armrest of the couch. Mark was pacing this way and that, trying to clean up the mess.

"Do you need help with these?" she smiled, gesturing at the plates on the table.

Mark shook his head violently as he approached her from the kitchen. "No." He took the plates from her hands and headed back to the kitchen to put it in the sink. "It's your birthday, remember?" he raised his tone a bit to make sure she'd hear him.

"Yeah, I do… and I also remember that you're my birthday slave," she smiled and picked up some more dirty dishes. He couldn't be serious, he worked so hard on that dinner, he couldn't do all this himself! "But I'll help you anyway."

Apparently, Mark took seriously his position as her birthday slave. As he walked in from the kitchen he shook his head again. He gently grabbed her wrist and brought it to his lips. "I can handle it," he said, kissing the palm of her hand. He took the dishes from her. "Sit down… please?"

"Mark, come on…" she laughed.

He didn't look so amused. "I'm not kidding, don't lift a finger. As long as you're in my house you'll do as I say." It didn't come out as determined and bossy as he probably meant it to be, because of that cute grin that he couldn't hide. He turned from her and got back to the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes. "It's my birthday, I'm not pregnant, Mark!" she protested but sat on the couch anyway. Her gaze fixated on the now empty ice cream bowl on the floor next to the couch, and she smirked and bent down to pick it up along with the other bowl, which contained two last peaches. "You'd want to take the evidence from here while you're at it, Sherlock, Roger will be back soon."

"I'm on it," he said as he hurried back to pick up the bowls and bottles from the coffee table. Maureen found her high heels on the floor and put them on, since she didn't have any other shoes in the loft. She didn't care that they didn't fit the jeans she was now wearing; she only hoped she'd get home without spraining her ankle on her way.

Finally, Mark finished cleaning up, and he slumped on the couch next to her, handing her a steaming coffee mug. "Gee, I'm beat. Wanna go back to bed?"

Maureen smiled as she slowly sipped her coffee. "What's on your mind, Marky?" she asked seductively as she put the mug on the coffee table and moved closer to sit on his lap. She took his mug away as well, and gave him a sorrowful look. "We can't, I should get going." She wanted to spend some time with Collins before he'd leave for Jersey. Thinking about it alone made her upset.

Mark must have felt it, because he took her hand and held it gently. "Do you remember the very first time I told you I loved you?"

Maureen smiled. "Yeah, I do. It was on my birthday."

Mark nodded. "Do you remember the feeling you got?"

"Yeah…" How could she forget? It was the first time a man told her he loved her and she could tell he really meant it. She remembered being excited and flattered but slightly panicked at the same time, because she wasn't sure she could return his love. Not in the same way Mark meant it. She eyed him curiously. "Why?"

His eyes sparkled. "Just tell me. How did you feel?"

Maureen hesitated. How could she transform that feeling into words? "Hmmm… I don't know. I guess it scared me a little, because I knew that you meant it. But other than that, it felt good to know that there's someone out there who really cared for me. It made me feel protected because I knew you'd always be there for me."

Even after she said it, Maureen felt that it didn't cover everything she felt at that moment back then. But it seemed to satisfy Mark, who flashed her another brilliant smile. "Do you feel that right now?"

She returned his smile. "Can't you see that yourself?"

"Are you answering my question with a question?" he asked slyly.

He was stealing her trick again, but she didn't really care this time. She decided to play along and smiled sweetly. "Are YOU answering MY question with a question?"

Mark pretended to be offended. "Hey, I asked first."

"Yes, you did, but it's MY birthday."

"And that means I have to let you win, right?"

"You must let me win ANYTIME." Mark smirked. "So… can you or can't you see it?"

Mark laughed softly. "I can see it." He kissed her, but quickly pulled away. "I have… another surprise for you."

Maureen looked at him, amused. This was WAY too much for one birthday already. How many surprises he still had planned? "What?"

She had to move and sit on the couch as he got up. "Something… I've been working on." To her amazement, he took Roger's guitar from behind the couch. "A song."

She stared at him jaw dropped. "A song… for me?" she stammered. She remembered Mimi saying something about him trying to write a song for Michelle, back then at that coffee house uptown, but the memory was vague. "Roger will kill you," she said jokingly, meaning the guitar he held carefully.

Mark smiled and sat next to her again. "We made a bargain. He'll put up with my singing if I put up with Your Eyes."

That made Maureen laugh. She knew Mark wasn't much of a singer, so the fact that he was going to sing for her was even more unbelievable. "I wanna hear it."

He started tuning the guitar. "Okay. I must warn you though. This is all new to me, and it's not Mozart or even Jimmy Hendrix worthy. You'll probably cringe at every note… but I want you to know that I really tried, so at least put that into consideration before you make fun of me."

He sounded as if he really meant that. She wondered if it was possible that he was serious. She had no intention to make fun of him. No one ever wrote a song for her, ever. No one ever cooked for her, too. Hell, she couldn't remember a time where her own mother did! "I will never make fun of you," she promised.

Mark chuckled, then nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna have a hard time looking at you."

She could feel he was getting kind of nervous. No one knew better than her the cure for a stage fright. "Want a tip from a pro?" she asked. "Don't ever look at your audience, don't think, just do your thing."

That seemed to calm him down a bit. He smiled. "Thanks. Okay, here goes:

I was back, behind the shadows

Trying hard to hide from you

When a light beneath the stage filtered through

And you appeared beneath the light

And my world was on the edge

Until those memories came back with thoughts of you.

And I wished for a chance to hold you

A chance to live again

A chance to breathe and evade the end

I couldn't stop from wishing

The lights shining above you

How I longed for a chance to say I love you once ag-"

Someone unlocked the door, putting an abrupt end to Mark's singing. His voice trailed off as Roger stepped into the loft, smiling brightly. "Good morning, love birds, was that… singing I heard?" he asked playfully. He seemed to be in a good mood.

Mark narrowed his eyes at Roger's remark. "Don't you knock?"

"Why? I live here, I'm your roommate, remember? It's my legal right to be here."

"Not if there's a rubber band on the door!"

Roger cocked an eyebrow. "There was?" He grinned, than turned to Maureen. "Oh, happy birthday Maureen."

Maureen flashed him a brilliant smile. "Why thank you, Roger, you're sweet." She looked at Mark. "I'd better go home now."

Mark nodded reluctantly. "Alright. I'll stop by later to help you guys with the packing." He glowered at Roger. "And I'd like to thank YOU for ruining my song."

Roger shrugged, but said nothing. Maureen laughed. "I'll leave you two to wrestle. And I'll see YOU later," she told Mark before she laid a soft kiss on his lips.

Roger reacted immediately, of course. "UUUGGGHHH!"

Mark shot him a look. "Shut up, Roger."

Maureen didn't even hear Roger's answer for that as she disappeared in Mark's bedroom. She put her present and the dress in a paper bag and walked back into their living room. Ignoring Roger's horrified expression, she kissed Mark again before she left the loft and headed back home.

-----------------

The afternoon flew by. Maureen and Collins did some more packing and rearranged the small apartment for the party. Then Collins went out for a while and Maureen took that opportunity to change before Mark got there. She was now wearing a knee length white skirt and a black tank top.

The doorbell rang just as she finished with her makeup. She raced to the door and though she was tired, her face lightened up as she saw Mark standing on her doorway. He was wearing a dark blue dress shirt that perfectly matched the color of his eyes, and black pants. He gelled his hair a bit, and it looked pretty good, like he was finally getting the hang of it. She tried to keep a straight face as she asked, "Yes, can I help you with anything?"

Mark looked at her, taking in her appearance, then smiled, "I'm looking for a pretty girl named Maureen, have you seen her?"

Maureen glanced around, pretending to be looking. "No, I don't think she lives here, you sure you have the right address?" She flashed him a devilish smile as she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. She closed the door and pinned him against it. "Hey."

"Hi. You look beautiful."

"Thank you, so do you," she smiled, moving an inch closer. "Collins went out. He'll be back in 15 minutes or so." She locked her gaze with Mark's, hoping he'd get the hint. "Did you miss me?"

"Like crazy," he said in a low voice as he brought her close with both hands. His lips brushed against hers almost fiercely. Maureen wrapped her arms around his neck and led him inside. Their kiss became more passionate and urgent as they made their way inside the apartment until they finally crashed on the couch, Maureen on top. She felt one of Mark's arms on her the small of her back, holding her close. He slipped his other arm to her ankle, under her skirt, up her leg. He slowly started drawing small circles on the inner side of her thigh with his fingers. Where the hell did he learn to do THAT? She moaned into the kiss and pressed herself against him for more…

"Perfect timing, as usual."

Her eyes snapped open as she recognized the familiar voice. Mark's hand froze in place as they both turned to face Collins, who was hovering above them. He had this mischievous sparkle in his eyes, which Maureen came to know so well by now.

"Damn it, Collins, can't you knock?" she asked, breathless and somewhat embarrassed, as she sat up. Mark brought both hands to his lap and stared at them, avoiding Collins' eyes. He was blushing madly.

Collins smiled. "I don't knock. I barge in and ruin moments." He sounded extremely proud at that.

"Yeah, we noticed. I don't understand why you bother bringing people together if you keep barging in on them later," she said, frowning, but with some humor in her voice. God, she was going to miss him so much.

"Because it's fun!" He paused, as if remembering something. "Oh, a thousand pardons, where are my manners!" He turned to Mark. "Word up, Mark."

Mark smiled. "Keepin' in real, Collins."

Collins returned his smile. "So are you guys going to continue, or are you going to help me finish packing?"

Maureen looked at Mark and smiled devilishly, then placed a hand on his thigh. "Continue?"

Mark's gaze followed her hand. He grinned and pulled her to his lap again. "Continue," he whispered and leaned to kiss her.

Collins stared at them in disbelief for a second before he pulled himself together. "W-w-wait, that was rhetorical! What I meant was that you better come and help me finish packing, or I'll kill you."

Maureen cocked one eyebrow and looked back at him. "Was that an order, Collins? I don't think you'd want to kill us. It will stain your fine reputation, you'll lose this teaching position, which means there's no point in helping you pack…" Then she realized what she smiled mischievously at Mark, "Which means we CAN continue!"

Collins let out a heavy sigh. "I've created two monsters!" He said to no one in particular. He threw his hands up in the air in a desperate gesture and walked to his bedroom.

They sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. Then Mark smiled at her and brushed her hair back. "Should we help him pack?"

Maureen slid one hand down his chest and shot him a seductive look. "I don't know, should we?"

Mark growled and rolled his eyes, but she knew he meant it as a joke. "Here we go again." He took her hand gently and stood up. "Come on, there'll be plenty of time for that later. But Collins is leaving. Who knows when we'll see him again. We owe him."

Of course he was right. She just hated the thought she'd have to say goodbye to her best friend soon, who knew for how long. She tried to push that thought away the best she could. Helping him pack wouldn't do much help. But sure, they owed Collins. Probably more than they'd ever be able to return. Helping him was the least they could possibly do for him right now. She nodded and took Mark's hand.

Collins' bedroom door was half opened, and Maureen knocked on it lightly. She peeked inside. The room wasn't even half empty, but it was clear that he was going away for a while. Looking at it nearly broke her heart. She couldn't help but think back on that day when he moved in with her. "Are you mad at us?"

Collins raised his head to look at her, and his face lightened as he flashed her one of his heart-melting smiles. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"

Maureen could take everything, but she could never resist that smile. She left Mark on the doorway and entered the room. She wrapped her arms around Collins' waist. "Please stay, Collins," she whispered, then buried her face in his shirt.

He laughed softly and held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I wish I could. But this is a good thing for me. I'll be getting the cash I need to pay for my health, and maybe Mimi and Roger's too. It'll be good for you too."

"I'm gonna miss you a lot, you know that?" She raised her head to look at him. Her vision was beginning to blur with tears.

Collins' eyes glistened too as he leaned to kiss her forehead. "I'm going to miss you too." He looked over her head at Mark, who was watching them from the doorway with a small smile. "You take care of her."

Mark nodded seriously. "You know I will."

There was a brief, comfortable silence, then Collins said, "Why don't you start over there?" He gestured at a stack of clothes on his bed as he gently let go of Maureen.

"Where did you put the boxes we brought in here yesterday?" she asked.

Collins smirked at her question. "The empty ones? I used them all, but I want those clothes that I carelessly threw on my bed in that huge thing." That huge thing was a big black travel bag, which they all bought him together as a parting gift. It cost them a lot, but they decided Collins was worth it. "After that, I should be ready to go."

"Does that mean that if we won't do it, you won't go?" she pouted, making both of them laugh.

Collins shook his head. "Don't get smart with me, Maureen."

"I'm not!" she said defensively. "I can't believe you're going."

"Me neither," he said and smiled. "Don't worry about me, I've got everything I need." He paused and eyed her suspiciously. "Except for my black beanie that mysteriously disappeared. Have you seen it?"

Of course she had. She borrowed it the previous week when they all went out for dinner in Life, and forgot to return it. Hmmm… maybe he'd let her keep it if she'd be really nice. She flashed him a heart-melting smile of her own. That smile worked its magic of everyone, she knew. No one could resist it. "If I say I didn't, will you believe me?"

He laughed, but only for a moment, before he stopped abruptly to give her a 'what-do-you-think' glare. "Yeah, right."

Mark laughed. "I'll get it," he said, walking towards the door. "Where is it?"

"My dresser. Top drawer." Mark nodded and left. Must be another way to get it from him, she thought. She put on her best pout and looked at Collins with innocent puppy eyes. "Why can't I have it? As a parting gift?"

Damn. It didn't have the desired affect. He dismissed her with the same laughter followed by a glare. "I thought it was me who was supposed to get the parting gifts. You want too much. Want, want, want. Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie," he imitated playfully, then bobbed his head and turned his back to her to put some more shirts in his bag.

Maureen stared at his back in disbelief for a moment. "I do not sound like THAT!"

"Mm-hmm, yes you do," he grinned, then began to chuckle. "Man, I can't get over you and Mark…" The chuckle turned into a giggle. "And Michelle…"

Maureen frowned as he mentioned HER name. She told him about that catfight several weeks back, and he couldn't stop laughing at her. "Why don't you just shu-" She stopped abruptly as someone stuck something right under her nose. A photo. A familiar photo. Too damn familiar. She could feel Mark's cold gaze piercing her back. Oh shit. "Collins, could you give us a minute please?" she asked, her tone unusually serious.

"Huh?" Collins said absent-mindedly. He turned to look at them, surprised by the sudden change in her tone. He had continued packing and was oblivious to what was going on. She didn't dare face Mark, but she assumed his expression was as serious as hers, because Collins mumbled "Sure, no problem," and left the room quickly.

Mark pulled the picture away from under her nose and went over to close the door. He said nothing as he moved closer to her again, just stood there and looked at her. It was enough.

She sighed but didn't look away as she sat on Collins' bed. "I didn't think I could get more embarrassed than this morning," she said quietly. God, she meant it. Mark was still silent, but his cold gaze was like a needle through her heart. She hoped it wasn't betrayal she noticed in his eyes. She could take anything but that. She hated to think that she'd lose his trust over such a meaningless thing. "Mark, say something," she said, now slightly panicked. She had to know what was on his mind. Was he really mad?

"Please tell me you didn't steal it," he said finally. His tone was soft, pleading.

She felt horrible listening to him, mostly because she knew she did just that; she stole that photo from him. But she wouldn't lie. The truth was the least she owed him. "Well, I could say I didn't steal it, but then I would have to lie," she said softly.

"Don't lie to me. Why didn't you say something earlier?" He didn't raise his voice, which made her feel even worse, because she knew it meant he was upset. Upset Mark was worse than angry Mark. "You stole this from me, Maureen."

She got up and went to the window, avoiding his eyes. "I totally forgot about it when we talked this morning-" which was true, but would he believe it? And did it change the fact that she stole that photo from him? Why everything had to be so damn complicated all the time? Just when they were finally getting along… "Shit," she whispered. She felt like crying.

"Maureen, don't be upset," she heard him say. She didn't look back. She couldn't face him. She just couldn't. There was a new tone to his voice, though; tenderness that wasn't there before. "I just want our relationship to be based on honesty." Me too, she thought, and I messed it up again. "I mean… at least you didn't make up an excuse like you used to do."

She turned to face him. "Is that a good thing?" she asked, uncertain.

"Yes… because… now I have to be honest with you… I wish I had told you earlier but I didn't even think about it."

What was he talking about? Did she even want to know? He didn't sound hurt or upset anymore. What could he possibly tell her? "What is it?"

"Well…" he hesitated, then said in a voice not higher than a whisper, "I keep a picture of you inside my pillow." He paused, as if he couldn't believe he had told her that, and buried his head in his hands. "God, I'm such a dork…"

He didn't say what she thought she heard him say, did he? A slow smile made its way to her lips as she moved closer to Mark, who didn't face her. Even though he still had his head hidden between his hands, she could tell he was blushing. "You… you do what?"

As he noticed her moving closer, he turned away from her. "It was the picture I took on our first date," he said to the wall he was now facing, "God, the moonlight shone on you so beautifully. I keep it near me in bed." She watched, amused, as he slowly pressed his forehead against the wall. "God, I'm a dork…" he murmured as realization hit him, then laughed a bit.

He was embarrassed. He was so cute when he was embarrassed. And she shouldn't be surprised he kept a picture of her in his bed, right? Even after everything she put him through? It was so sweet, such a Mark thing to do. She moved closer until she was standing right behind him. "Mark, turn around," she asked softly.

He did, but he could hardly look at her. "What?" he tried to sound casual, like he didn't give a damn, but the faint blush that was left on his cheeks gave him away.

She smiled but said nothing. She placed a soft kiss on his lips, then quickly pulled away and looked at him.

"What was that for?"

She smiled. "Do I need to have a reason to do that?"

One more step, and he was now holding her. "I guess not," he said before he leaned down to kiss her again. Relieved that he was not angry, she wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss. Mark slowly pushed her towards Collins' bed.

And that was when Collins chose to knock on the door and let himself in. "NOT in MY bed, for God's sake, spare me!"

Maureen pulled away and glared at him. "Who says YOU are allowed in here?"

He pretended to be offended. "Excuse me, this is still MY room for the next 24 hours and some odd minutes! Besides, my super-powers tell me you're gonna get a call any minute." Couple of seconds later, the phone's ringing pierced the air. Collins grinned. "See?"

Maureen stared at him, completely shocked. How on earth did he do THAT?

Collins, who had the receiver in his hand as he entered the room, then answered the call. "You've Got Love Online, if you need love, we've got it- all for the reasonable price of 1200 dollars."

Maureen kept staring at him wide-eyed for a second before she snatched the receiver out of his hands. "Give me that, smartass! Hello?"

"Umm… hi, can I speak with Maureen Johnson please?" An unfamiliar male voice asked.

Maureen's forehead cringed. "Yes, this is she."

"Maureen, hi, this is Anthony Henley, the manager of Purple Sky."

Purple Sky? Why was he calling here? That disastrous show was quite some time ago and she really just wanted to forget it ever happened. "Hi. Look, I'm really sorry for-"

"-Oh, don't mention it, we all have our days, I completely understand. This is actually why I'm calling. After thinking about it, I believe you deserve a second chance."

"What?" No, this couldn't be true; she probably didn't understand what he was saying. She glanced at Collins and Mark who gave her puzzled looks, then turned her attention back to the call.

"Yes. You see, for the past couple of weeks I've tried out countless of bands and wannabe rockers, but none of them had the same quality… the same spirit that you had. So I thought that I might want to try you out anyway, even though you had that… umm, problem that other night."

He wanted to give her a second chance. This couldn't be right! "REALLY?" A huge smile was slowly appearing on her face.

"You're sounding surprised. You know you're good, don't you? Why wouldn't I want to give you another chance?"

"I… I don't know, I guess I'm just… Oh my God, are you sure?"

He laughed. "Positive. Can you be here tomorrow around noon? I'd like to introduce you to my partner, he had just came back from a business trip, I want him to meet you before we sign on any contract."

Contract… This was too good to be true! He was offering her a job… as the leading singer in Purple Sky? This couldn't be happening! Could this birthday get any better? "Sure, I'll be there."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I don't know how to thank you."

"Sugar, I can recognize talent when I see it. Maybe it's not me you should be thankful to, anyway." That one left her completely speechless. He seemed to notice, and let out a heartily laughter. "Just be here tomorrow, Maureen."

"Okay… yeah, I will."

"Bye."

Maureen held the receiver close to her ear long after she heard the dial tone. She couldn't put it down. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Then she slowly placed it on Collins' dresser.

"I think we're going to hear some big news," mumbled Collins. She had completely forgot he and Mark were still standing there, curiously watching her.

Mark laughed and looked at her. "Are you going to tell us?"

Maureen returned his look but she was so unfocused. She was too shocked, too excited to say anything. "I… got the job at Purple Sky," she murmured, mostly to herself. Then it finally hit her, and she let out an excited outcry as she launched herself at Mark and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I GOT THE JOB!"

Mark laughed, then took her in his arms and spun her around. "That's great!"

She giggled. "I KNOW!"

"I want some lovin' too!" whined Collins, outstretching his arms like a five-year-old.

Maureen laughed and went over to give him a big hug as well. "I could never have done this without you." Wait a minute… He KNEW she was about to have that call! "Tell me the truth," she pulled away and glanced at him suspiciously. "Do you have anything to do with it?"

"Me? No! You're ridiculous! Okay, maybe…" He smiled. "Maybe a little bird told him you needed a second chance."

"Or an angel," said Mark.

Maureen laughed softly and moved closer to him. He was still smiling, and that made her smile too. "Will you be there the next time?"

"I'll always be there."

She smiled sweetly. "Will you be my stage manager too?"

Mark returned her smile, then nodded. "Sure," he whispered and kissed her softly.

"Umm… guys? Yoo-hoo, still in the room, never left," Collins pointed out.

Maureen could feel Mark smile against her lips, but he didn't let go. "Do you hear anything?" she managed to whisper in between their kisses.

"Hear what?" was his mumbled reply as he moved to nibble on her neck.

Collins let out what sounded like a disgusted sound, but he was obviously very much amused. "You guys are so cute, almost sickening. If you're gonna do any of that, do it later. Mark, put it on film and send it to me. We need to pack now."

Maureen could hardly listen to what Collins was saying as Mark trailed his kisses from her neck back to her lips. What was it? Something about them being cute… and film… another film… "No… filming…" she muttered through closed eyes and pulled Mark closer.

"Well, if you're going to do a live show, do it when I'm not busy, huh?" He sighed, but didn't sound angry or anything. More as if he missed it. Was he thinking of Angel? "Quit it you guys, you know I can't stand this cuteness."

Mark's hands came to rest on her hips as he pulled away reluctantly. His fingers found their way under the material of her tank top, but he didn't go any further. She flashed him a smile. "You CAN stay after the party, can't you?"

"You know I can."

"You know I can," mimicked Collins childishly, in a high pitched tone, then burst into a giggle.

Maureen frowned and was about to say something when her gaze suddenly focused on something behind Collins' back. She looked at the pillows on his bed, then at Mark, hoping he'd get it. She moved away from him, then grabbed one pillow and smacked Collins with it.

It took him completely by surprise and he stared at her wide-eyed for the longest time. Then, trying desperately to hide the grin that slowly appeared on his face, he said, "I know you did not just hit me with that pillow, girl."

He could hardly finish his sentence, when Mark grabbed a second pillow and hit him with it. "Sorry, Collins."

Maureen fought to keep a straight face as she said, as seriously as she could, "Quit it, boys, we have work to do."

Mark lowered his arms. "Right."

It was the wrong thing to do. Collins took hold on Mark's pillow before he even had a chance to blink, and smacked Maureen with it. That act caught her completely off guard and she yelped in surprise, nearly losing her balance.

"Cheater, my shields were low!" laughed Mark just as another pillow hit his face, skewing his glasses. He just stared at Collins blankly.

Maureen launched herself forward to defend Mark, smacking Collins with one pillow, then with the other.

He fell on his bed, laughing uncontrollably. "AGGHH! You're both going to die!"

She was straddling him now, holding one pillow close to his face. A similar image flashed through her mind, with Alex just couple of weeks before. "Surrender?"

"Surrender? Tom Collins never surrenders!" He managed to snatch the pillow from her, even though she held it tight. Then he threw it aside and flipped them over, so that she was now lying on his bed. "Mark, make one move to save her and you're next!" he threatened. And then the torture started. His hands were everywhere, tickling her mercilessly.

Her protest was a mixture of screams, squeals, giggles and yelps. She was ticklish. VERY. And Collins knew it. "NO! Collins, STOP IT! Come on… MARK! Tell him to stop! PLEASE MAKE HIM STOP!" She couldn't bare it, she couldn't fight it, and Collins seemed to enjoy seeing her suffer so much.

"Collins, phone for you," said Mark all of a sudden, holding the receiver for Collins.

And thank God, the tickling stopped. Collins turned over his shoulder to look suspiciously at Mark. "Funny, I didn't hear it ring." He sat up and took the phone. "Hello?"

Mark made sure that Collins was well distracted, then he helped Maureen up the bed. "Run, run, run!" he urged her in a whisper, grinning, just as Collins shot him another suspicious look.

Maureen cocked an eyebrow. "Run? You're supposed to carry me in you're arms away from here. The fire escape should be good enough."

Mark gave her a funny look and laughed softly. "Too late now," he turned to Collins, as if expecting him to grab Maureen again, but he didn't. Instead, he was standing quietly. His head was lowered down as he felt his forehead carefully.

Maureen's smile died out immediately as she moved closer to him. It didn't seem like he was faking it. What was going on? "Collins? Is everything okay?"

Collins raised his head to face her and did his best smiling at her. "I didn't take my AZT this morning. Actually I missed a couple of days. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"What do you mean you've missed a couple of days?" asked Maureen, already on her way to the kitchen. He never forgot to take his medicine. This trip to Jersey was making him confused. She came back to his bedroom a moment later, and handed him a glass of water. "What are you, five?" she added, only half serious.

Collins took the glass from her with a weak smile. "Thank you Mother Theresa." He took the pill, and looked at Maureen again. "I just… didn't have time. There was so much to do this week, I told myself I was going to take it… and I just missed it."

There was a bit of silence, then Maureen raised an amused eyebrow. "Mother Theresa?" That was a new one.

Collins shrugged. "It's a stretch," he said, smiling. "You're a saint, baby."

She was about to protest when she felt Mark's arms snake around her waist. He laid a small kiss on the crown of her head, and said, "No. She's an angel."


	29. Chapter 29

A/N from PinkElf: "Dearly beloved, we gathered here to say our goodbyes…" yeah, guys, this is it- I'm sad to inform that this is the last chapter. As in every grand finale, we've decided to split the last chapter into 2 parts, so this chapter and the following one were written by Fae, in Mark's POV. Don't be upset that it's almost over, though, because there is plenty more to come, among other stuff- a side story about the one everyone loves to hate (aka Alex Meyers,) that Fae is working on in these days, so stay tuned- we promise we're not going anywhere.

I really hate sum-ups so I'll try to do it short. I wanna thank all of you, our amazing readers and reviewers. I can't even start telling you how much your support and encouragement meant for both of us. We've been working on this story for almost 5 months, and I have to say that this was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Above all things, I made myself a new friend, so Fae- thank you SO MUCH for everything. You're an amazing writer, and I was honored to write this story with you. I had so much fun doing all these online dialogues (as you well know, ha ha,) and I sure learnt a lot from you (hums _Wicked_'s For Good)

So yeah, now I think I'll shut up and let you all enjoy the first part of our finale, so… thank you guys. You're awesome. See you soon. No day but today.

Love, T.M (Maureen)

**A huge thank-you for Katie, the second half of Erik and Fae (or in other words, Fae's partner in crime,) who helped us with the following multi-character dialogue :)**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**Part One**

This was the end. The final chapter, the last goodbye, the "until we meet again," the great finale. This was how it felt, anyway, with Collins leaving after all they'd been through. Actually, this was how it always felt when he left. That feeling never changed and Mark was going to miss him just as much. How could he possibly say goodbye again?

"Collins, do you really have to leave?" asked Mark from across the kitchen counter.

"Mark, for the last time, unless I get a job as a detective in the next twenty-four hours, then yes, I really have to," said Collins, setting a stack of cups next to the liters of soda.

Mark laid his head down, feeling the cold marble pressing on his skin. Guests were to arrive any minute, just another step to assure his leave. The doorbell rang.

"Mark, can you get that?" called Maureen from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I got it," said Mark, jogging to the door. He opened it to see Roger and Mimi smiling on the other side. "Hey guys."

"Buenas noches," said Mimi.

"You brought nachos?" asked Mark curiously.

"Hey, where's Collins?" said Roger as they ushered themselves in.

"Trying to make himself look pretty," said Mark grinning.

"I don't have to try, boy," said Collins walking out of the kitchen.

"Collins!" greeted Roger with his arms wide open. Collins laughed and gave him a bear hug.

Mimi shook her head and gave Collins a hug as well. She looked at Roger strangely. "It's not like you didn't see him yesterday."

"Hey, nobody misses me?" asked Maureen wiping her hands with a towel and tossing it to the side. "It is MY birthday party." She embraced Mimi and Roger tightly. Collins raised his arms slightly.

"What, am I not leaving or something?" asked Collins.

"Hey you guys, it's a party for the both of you. Chill," said Mark. But, to no one's surprise, Maureen put on her ever-so-famous pout.

"No, it's my party," she said, a smile curling up, like a five-year-old.

"And she'll cry if she wants to," said Collins, sighing and rolling his eyes.

"You would cry too if it happened to you," Maureen finished happily.

"Oh, great, another karaoke party," groaned Mimi.

"You'd really think I'd be at a party without any karaoke?" asked Collins.

"No mas, Collins, no mas," said Mark winking at Mimi. For some reason or another, she had been teaching everyone that phrase. Just a few days ago, Mark was coming home from filming and caught another glimpsed of police brutality. The white homeless person they were taunting, who Mark recognized to be the squeegee man, kept yelling, "No mas! No mas!"

"Yes mas, more mas!" said Roger grinning. Yeah, the singer wants to do karaoke, thought Mark rolling his eyes.

"Roger, if you're going to speak Spanish, speak it well por favor. Mucho mas, mi angelito."

"We HAVE to do this karaoke thing again! Marky, you must sing with me," said Maureen urgently.

"Sing? I can't-" started Mark, but Roger intruded.

"NO EXCUSES Marky. Besides, yours truly has been teaching him how to sing and well if you close your eyes and stand a good four feet away, he's not that bad anymore," said Roger unsurely.

"You're going to sing with me," Maureen said giving him that seductive look, "You're my birthday slave, remember?"

"Mark, after cake and ice-cream, you've got a date with the microphone," said Collins proudly. Maybe I just shouldn't fight it, thought Mark hopelessly.

"You can make him sing, but I can't do it today," declared Mimi. "I'll dance if you want me to."

Roger's eyes lit up. He turned to Collins. "Lawn chair handcuff dance?"

"No way," said Maureen but they didn't listen to her.

"I'll get the ice tea," said Collins smirking.

"You have an hour to decide what you want to sing," said Maureen as she pulled herself closer to Mark. "Come on, Mark. You sang with HER… and it wasn't even her birthday."

She always did that, and he couldn't help but fall under her spell all over again. Well, some things, he guessed, never changed.

"Maureen, don't do that," he said blushing a bit, "you know I'd do anything for you."

The doorbell rang signifying that more guests were here. Saved by the bell, thought Mark. Collins answered it and greeted his friends at the door. He invited them in, and Mark was about to join him when Maureen pulled him aside.

"You'll do anything, but not this?" she asked softly.

He just smiled at her and kissed her softly. The party started well as Collins introduced everyone. Some of the guys were from the karaoke party, when they were welcoming Collins to his new place. One of them even joked around how he had never been at a welcoming part then at a bon voyage party in the span of a couple of months. A few other friends, lady friends, Mark had never seen before. They used to work with Collins at NYU and called him one of their most memorable mentors. He was such an inspiration and he hardly knew it.

The party commenced, and they passed out sandwiches and pizza for the guys because Roger said Alex would freak if there wasn't any pizza. At one point, Mimi wandered over to the kitchen, snooping out for something.

"Hey Collins, do you need any help in here?" offered Mimi, joining Roger and Collins in the kitchen.

"Admit it, Meems, you just want to get to the ice-cream first," said Maureen. She suddenly turned to Mark. "It's vanilla ice-cream."

"Yum," said Mark grinning evilly, leaning over to give her a kiss. What fond memories. The three just stared at them unbelievably, as Collins passed out the ice-cream.

"Gross," muttered Roger, taking a bite from his bowl.

Mark pulled away and Collins bent over to his ear. "Do I even want to know what you guys did to the ice-cream?"

Unfortunately, he said it loud enough for Roger to hear. "You guys did something to the ice-cream?" He looked into his bowl.

"Collins, mind your own business, and Roger, the ice-cream is fine. Quit looking at it like it's going to bite you," said Maureen. "It was just Collins and his dirty mind. Besides, what would we possibly do to the ice-cream?"

Collins shook his head, but quickly looked up to the ceiling and started to whistle. Thankfully, the doorbell saves the godforsaken conversation.

"I got it," said Mark, running to the doorway.

"Run, doorbell boy, run!" cheered Roger. Maureen responded by telling him to shut up. Mark made his way to the door, and opened it.

"Hey buddy." Alex stood there with his son, a chestnut brown hair, freckled boy. He was the epitome of his father except for his hair and freckles. He was hanging on to his father's leg closely. "This is Jacob."

Mark smiled. So this was Jacob. He couldn't believe that the guy who toileted the usher's car at the movie theaters because he told him to shut up was the father of this cute and innocent child. Mark knelt in front of him.

"Hello Jacob," he said. The little boy backed away a little, a bit frightened.

"Hey, fella," said Roger from behind, "how are you?"

Jacob suddenly grinned and ran to Roger's side. Roger picked him up and swung him around as the kid giggled joyfully. Mark stood up, a bit abashed.

"He doesn't know you yet," said Alex softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Mark nodded. He understood.

"I know," said Mark, patting him on the back. He let him in.

"Hey the clown's here!" said Maureen as soon as she spotted Alex.

Alex grinned and glanced at Mark as if to say, 'is that the best she could do?' Mark shook his head, warning him not to say anything rash. "Nice to see you too Maureen," replied Alex.

"And…?" she asked crossing her arms. Alex walked passed her to his kid, brushing against her.

"Not in front of the kid, you animal," he said looking over his shoulder. Mark followed him and gave Maureen a look of 'don't mind him.'

"Shut up Alex," she said frowning.

"Tell her happy birthday, you dork," whispered Mark to Alex as he straightened out his kid's suit.

"Huh?" said Alex, standing up. "Oh, happy birthday Maureen." She gave him a quick fake smile and leaned over to the child.

"Hey sweetie, can you give me your name?" she asked softly.

His lips began to tremble and he ran to his father, clinging on to his leg again.

"Gee, Maureen, what did you do to the kid?" Alex asked playfully.

Maureen shot him a glare. "He's obviously not yours if he's running away from ME."

"Maureen…" Collins tossed her hair a bit, giving her a look of warning. He walked over to Alex and Jacob.

"Hey Alex," said Collins. Mark grinned. He remembered Collins having a crush on Alex, and every time he tried to hit on him, Alex would fight back.

"Why is it that every time I finally get to see you, you leave?" asked Alex.

"Haven't you caught on? We can't stay in the same room together, in the same town together, or people will gag at how sexy we are together. It can't be. It can never be," said Collins a bit overdramatically.

By this time, everyone was staring at them.

"Collins, you're not that hot," said Alex laughing.

"It's because I'm black, ain't it?" he said cocking an eyebrow. Everyone laughed and the party commenced. Mimi approached Roger from behind and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Hey baby," whispered Roger kissing her forehead. Mark smiled and Maureen slipped her hand in his. He was so happy that everything was falling into place.

"Does he need anything?" asked Mark gesturing to Jacob.

"He'll be fine once he has something or someone to play with," said Alex.

Mark turned to Roger. "Care to baby-sit?"

"Why me?" asked Roger incredulously.

"Because you're the only one here who could communicate with him, Roger. You're mentally the same age," said Maureen.

He stuck his tongue at her. "Am not!"

"Yeah you are," said Maureen.

"Whiner," claimed Collins, toasting his drink in the air.

"I'll help you baby-sit," said Mimi. Roger wrapped his arms around her warmly. A knock came at the door.

"I'll get it," said Maureen suddenly as Mark was going to approach the door.

"Are you sure?" asked Mark.

"I don't want you to tire out," she moved closer, "just yet." She kissed him on the cheek and went over to the door to open it. Mark tried to peer over the crowd of heads to see who it was.

A lady was at the door but Mark couldn't make out who it was. He moved a little closer to get a better hearing, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was eavesdropping or that she couldn't handle opening the door on her own.

"So… umm how are you?" asked Maureen to whoever was at the door.

"Good, good… I don't think you've met Rebecca yet."

Rebecca. Cindy! Cindy was at the door. He watched as Cindy handed her Rebecca. Luckily, her little hands outstretched, wanting Maureen to hold her. Cindy had a hesitant look in her eyes. Trust her, Mark kept thinking. The sibling telepathy seemed to have worked as she gave her daughter to Maureen to hold. There was a sparkle in her eye as she embraced her, and Mark's heart melted. It was such a picturesque scene; Mark wished he had his camera.

"Cindy, hi," said Mark finally approaching them, "glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Cindy smiling.

"Hi beautiful," Maureen whispered to the baby. Rebecca giggled. Mark rubbed his sister's shoulder and her son, Adam, appeared from behind his mother.

"Hey, Adam," said Mark offering a high five. Adam grinned and slapped him five, laughing nervously, but a bit excitedly. He had been talking to him on the phone a bit more, and the relationship they once had was slowly being restored. It wasn't much, but it was more than Mark could hope for.

"Muncle Mark!" exclaimed Adam.

"I thought you said you were going to work on that," said Mark to his sister and they let her in.

"He can't help it. He even calls our cousins Muncle. Sorry brother you're Muncle Mark for life," said Cindy shrugging, but quite pleased.

"I think it's cute," said Maureen fixing the baby's hair.

"Sure," he murmured, messing Adam's hair. Before he knew it he felt himself almost topple over as Alex jumped on him from behind.

"MUNCLE MARK!" he mimicked, messing with Mark's hair.

"Quit it," he said lowly.

"Hey Maureen, is there something you're not telling Mark?" he said nodding to the girl in her arms. A few more people had gathered around them to coo over the kids. Maureen was about to shoot him a dirty look, but kept her place. That didn't stop her from insulting him, however. Mark bit his lip in disbelief.

"Alex, do humanity a favor and shut up," she said with a fake sweet tone.

Alex pretended to look shocked and turned to Collins. "Should I?"

"No, now what would we do without your two cents prodding in every detail," asked Collins sarcastically. "Maureen, watch it in front of the kids. Alex…" he slapped his face gently, "that was uncalled for."

"Yeah, come on you guys," said Mark. He didn't want anything wrong to happen, especially now they he and Maureen were back together. He didn't want Alex to ruin everything, but he didn't want Alex to leave either. He just wished they'd hold a truce, at least until one of them died.

"HE started it," said Maureen handing the baby to Cindy.

"And you finish it," said Collins.

"You know I love how the wonders of experiences leads us to be even more immature by the day," said Alex to no one in particular.

"Don't be an intellectual idiot," said Collins.

"Fine, I'm sorry," said Maureen breathlessly. "Does anybody want anything from the kitchen? Cindy? Coffee?"

"Maureen," said Mark but Maureen shook her head.

"I'm fine, don't worry." She placed a hand on his cheek. "Please." Mark kissed her forehead and smiled. She was learning self control.

"I'll help you, Maureen," said Cindy, following her into the kitchen, taking Rebecca with her. Alex and Roger tried to get the little boys to play, as Mimi moved toward Mark.

"So do you think you can get away with it?" she asked suddenly.

"Get away with what?"

"The karaoke thing," she said.

"Let's hope." He led Mimi to Roger and Alex, thinking that it would be fun to see the two throw jokes at one another.

"Jacob, this is Adam," said Roger pushing him a bit.

"He's so great with kids," said Mimi dreamily. Mark smiled. Their relationship couldn't have been more perfect.

Alex eyed the two kids skeptically and waited patiently. His son was awfully shy. Mark wondered how that could be possible, with a father who had no fear whatsoever. Adam grabbed Jacob's wrist and egged him to the baby bag his mom had set near the hallway, probably to show him a toy he brought with him. It looked as if Jacob was about to cry. He glanced at his father. Alex gave him an encouraging look. Slowly, Jacob followed.

Mark observed that he was becoming a bit more comfortable with his father's support. He must have really looked up to him. Adam pulled out a toy truck and started showing Jacob how it worked.

"Aww, they're like Mark Junior and Rogereeny," said Alex standing between Mark and Roger.

"That's so cute!" said Mimi.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they end up sharing an apartment together," said Alex, raising his eyebrow at Mark.

"Let's just hope they don't meet an asshole friend that mooches off of them," said Mark, smirking.

"Haha Mark, you made a funny," said Alex. At the same time, Mimi had smacked him on the shoulder.

"What did I do?" asked Mark.

"Watch your language, mi dios," said Mimi. "El ninos."

"They can't hear me."

"Sure they can. They're children, they're not stupid."

"I only said asshole."

"Muncle Mark, what's an asshole?" asked Adam coming up to him all of a sudden. Mark dropped his jaw and looked at him, horrified. Where did he come from? Those were the curses of being so little. He hardly heard them approach.

"See?" said Mimi. Roger and Alex looked at him expectedly. They were grinning. Yeah, what else would they be doing?

"Nice going, big shot, you ruined the kid for life!" said Alex.

"What's an asshole?" asked Adam persistently. "Am I an asshole?"

"No, Adam, you are definitely not an... an..." Mark stopped. What was he supposed to say? Think, think!

"You're totally screwed Mark," said Roger. "What are you going to tell Cindy?"

"Shut up," mumbled Mark, frantically trying to concentrate on what to do.

"Is Roger an asshole?" asked Adam innocently.

"No, no-" said Mark carefully. His head was beginning to spin.

"Then who is?" He was about to respond but held his tongue, and merely looked at Alex, who in turn gave him a look.

"I'll give you a hint," said Mark lowly. "He's tall and his name rhymes with Shalex."

"Wallex?" suggested the idiot Meyers.

"MUNCLE MARK, what _is _an ASSHOLE?" demanded Adam.

Why did he keep asking that? Mark just wished he'd shut up, but the horrifying scene of him going to his mom and dad one quiet evening and saying that awful, forbidden word-

"Goddamnit," thought Mark bowing his head down. He looked up three seconds later to see Roger and Mimi's jaw nearly dragging on the floor, and Adam grinning wildly.

"What?" he asked clueless.

"Mark!" said Roger and Mimi, but they couldn't suppress their laughter.

"Goddamnit!" mimicked Adam. He heard me, that little squirt! thought Mark, burying his face in his hands. That's it... no more talking, no more thinking, no more breathing! Who was he kidding? Mark looked at Alex for help, but he just shrugged.

"_I_ watch my mouth in front on my kid," said Alex.

"Some friend you are, you shithead," said Mark giving him a cold eye.

"Shithead!" said Adam, happily copying his uncle.

"WHAT are you doing, Mark?" asked Alex. "And is that the best you can do?"

"Mark, just shut up!" said Mimi.

"Fuck, Mimi I can't," said Mark hopelessly. Oh God…

"Oh man," said Alex laughing.

"Fuck Mimi!" imitated Adam.

"Hey- not until your 18," said Roger, but Mimi nudged him in the stomach for that. She gave him a dirty look.

"You will never be able to deal with kids of your own," said Mimi to Mark. I just want to make him stop, thought Mark desperately.

"That's four cuss words in a row, care to make it five?" asked Alex.

"Shut up, Alex," said Mark.

"You surprise me, Mark," said Mimi, "A bright and charming boy like you..?"

He grabbed Mimi by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. "I… am… going… to… hell." Mark sighed. "Crap." He had no idea how to handle these type of things with kids.

"Crap! Hell! Fuck!" sang Adam.

"MARK COHEN, what are you teaching my child?" yelled Cindy, as she marched toward them.

"There she blows," whispered Alex picking up Jacob.

"NOTHING!" said Mark quickly. He didn't mean any of it.

"He really didn't mean it!" defended Mimi. Thank you Mimi, thank you, he said silently. His sister stood in front of him, hands on her hips, glaring at him menacingly.

"Ohh," she said, "so you WERE teaching him something?"

Oh great. "Mimi!" said Mark.

"You blew it babe," Roger whispered.

"I'm sorry! I'm trying to help," she said burying her face in Roger's shirt.

"Do us a favor… don't help," said Alex a bit too gently.

Mimi tried to smile. "Really, Cindy, it's nothing."

"Don't try to protect my little brother," she said. She picked up Adam and looked him square in the eye. "Adam, if I hear you say those words one more time, I'm washing your mouth out with soap." She then looked at Mark icily. "And MARK COHEN, if I hear you say those words around my kids again, I'm shoving that soap down your throat and you're going to be washing it down with Dove."

"At least we'll know his intestines will be clean and silky smooth," said Alex. Mark felt horrible and tried not to give Alex a dirty look for his comment. Alex placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Do us all a favor, Mark, and don't have kids."

"Shut the fuck up," he said. Damn! He looked at Cindy who just stared at him, shocked. "Shit..."

"Hey, who's that guy Maureen's talking to?" asked Mimi suddenly. Mark's head snapped toward the kitchen window. A tall, dark haired man was inching closer and closer to Maureen. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a dazzling smile- just the type of guys that really irritated him. Mark began to get agitated, his heart beginning to race. What if she fell back into her old lifestyle? What if the temptations are just too strong for her? And whom could he blame? She was beautiful.

"What's going on?" asked Roger following his gaze.

Mark continued to watch them. Maureen was smiling, but it looked as if she was uncomfortable too. If he made one move, just one move… She laughed a bit, but tried to slip away. He was trying to corner her.

"Mark, look at me when I'm talking to you or I'll let it spill who your favorite Sesame Street character was," said Cindy threateningly.

"Come and play, everything's a-okay. Friendly neighbors there, that's where we meet! Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?" sang Roger.

"How the heck do you know that song?" asked Alex. Mimi gave her boyfriend a suspicious look.

"I live with Mark, don't I?" asked Roger rationally. Mark shot him a glare. Fortunately, Maureen came from behind, snaking her arms around him.

"What are you all talking about?" she asked.

"We're reliving Mark's childhood," answered Alex. "He liked Elmo."

"How do YOU know the characters?" asked Roger inquiringly.

Alex looked down. "Everyone loves Elmo."

They laughed as Collins entered the conversation. "I preferred Captain Kangaroo."

"I LOVED that show!" said Maureen excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Oh man," said Mark. Why couldn't they just have a normal conversation, like normal twenty-year-olds? Oh right, the word normal was in there. He leaned his head against Maureen's, and smiled. Everyone was having fun.

"Oh come on Mark, you're enjoying this," said Alex, "Aren't you glad? For once, we're not talking about the hanky-panky and junk."

"Hanky panky?" asked Collins.

"Sorry," he said shrugging, "But one of us has to watch our mouth in front of the young ones."

"Where is your kid, anyway?" asked Maureen.

Alex looked at his arms to find that it was empty. Mark hadn't noticed either. "I'm not sure," said Alex.

"Alex…" said Roger.

"Don't worry, he's right there," said Alex pointing near the baby bag. "What do you take me as?"

"Can I steal you away for a while?" asked Maureen. Mark looked at her curiously. He hoped everything was alright. He nodded and she pulled him away into the hallway. They stood in front of one another, in the softly lit room. This brought back memories. He remembered backing away nervously as Maureen closed on him, with that tight shirt she was wearing… actually, that wouldn't sound half bad now…

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said nodding. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" She tried to act calm, but he knew something was bothering her. But he felt proud of her for finally taking control of her anger.

"Well, it kind of looked like you were having trouble… over there… with Prince Charming," he said.

"Him," she said disgusted. "He was… ew… I can't believe Collins hangs out with people like him. I got so tired of listening to him praising himself."

Mark smiled reluctantly. "Nothing… happened?"

"Well he asked me out, but I turned him down."

He sighed of relief. Still, he was kind of worried. "Really?"

"Yeah. Because I can't go out with him if I'm in love with someone else right?" she looked at him honestly, and Mark loved her for that.

"Right. I mean… Maureen, I love you so much," he said embracing her.

"I know," she said hugging back. "I love you too. So why would I go out with… with that?" She pulled away slowly. "Stop worrying, okay? I promised I'd be good." So far, she was keeping her promise.

It felt as if it was the right time to ask her. He wished it could be somewhere more romantic than a poorly lit hallway, but he just had to ask her now. What the hell? It is the last chapter, anyway.

"Maureen," he said softly, taking her hands and kissing them gently. "Maureen can I ask you something?"

She formed an uncertain smile. He looked at her sincerely and she smiled.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Maureen, I really love you and I want you to know that I'll always be there for you, no matter what," he started. Good start, establish your love, good start, he thought with recurring diligence.

"Mark, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Maureen…" he said. He just wanted to be with her. "I want to wake up beside you, every morning…"

He was beginning to choke up. Or chicken out. What was the difference? He didn't want her to say no. Was he rushing it? Maybe it was too soon. Yet, he'd never find out if he didn't try. It was now or never.

"Maureen, would… would you…" Okay, it was called chickening out. A familiar twist was growing in his stomach, and for some reason he felt as if a thousand eyes were looking at him, pressuring him. Just ask her, you idiot! Okay, once more.

"Maureen, would you…?" Oh God. Dear Lord, someone encourage me.


	30. Chapter 29B

_**A/N from Fae: LAST CHAPTER! This is it, you guys. The last chapter to end the new year. It's been a wonderful ride, and I cannot believe the amount of support and reviews we received. I never would have guessed it would turn out like this. Thank you a million times ten! And thank you, especially to PinkElf, there is NO Maureen without you. She would have never turned out as great if I worked with someone else. You've been a inspiration to work with. It's great to write with someone who has just as much dedication and devotion to the characters, to the story. It's been a thrill. Love you a million.**_

_**Everyone. Watch out for my next story in Alex's point of view. In this interpretation of the story, he is quite important and I feel that I've connected with him so much, that his story needs to be told. So please read it and you'll find out more about their relationship together, and more about Mark and Maureen that'll make your jaw drop. **_

_**Thanks again you guys. It's been amazing! You guys rock like there's no tomorrow! **_

**Chapter Twenty-nine**

**Part Two**

Her eyes filled with a shiny gloss that made his heart swell with complete devotion. There was an arch on her brow that posed worry for him, for the both of them. Her lips formed a simple curl which urged him to move on. She wanted him to say it. But did he want to say it? She gave his hand a soft squeeze. Okay. This was easy. He could do it. It felt as if a thousand viewers were waiting for him to speak. It also felt as if they were encouraging him. Here goes.

"Maureen, would you…?" he swallowed. Just nerves. He licked his lips and started over. He took a deep breath. "Would you like to move in with me?"

She stared at him with a confused expression for a few seconds, but felt like hours for Mark. He hoped that he didn't say the wrong thing. He didn't want to let their relationship down by making the same mistake twice. She slowly scrunched her eyebrow as if expecting some thing more, but then smiled immediately afterward.

"I… really?" she asked, laughing a bit. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. Mark sighed of relief, and embraced her. "Of course I will."

"Yeah?" asked Mark grinning, and letting her go.

"Are you kidding? I'll die alone in this apartment." She laughed with excitement, and she pulled him in for another hug. He held her longer this time, pleased that she wasn't too disappointed with his offer.

She laid her head on his chest and he rocked her from side to side. "Thank God you said that," she said stifling a nervous giggle. "I thought you were about to… to…"

Mark looked at her, puzzled. Ask her to what? Oh… Oh. Oy veh. So soon? "What? Ask you to marry?" asked Mark a bit more confidently than he expected.

She eyes grew bigger, and she looked at him shocked. "Please, _please_ don't say THAT!" she begged.

He laughed. Oh good. She didn't want to either. He kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly. "Sorry."

"I mean… I wouldn't say no," she continued, a bit fast. Mark looked at her strangely, unsure of what she wanted to say. She looked to her side, trying to avoid eye contact. "I mean, I would! Well, that is, say no… I… don't know what I'm saying. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Don't worry, I know a cure for that," he said kissing her softly. He turned her around and pressed her against the wall. He felt her inch him closer down the hall.

"Oh lovebiiirrrdddsss," called Collins nearby. "The kids are here, Marky. Reeney, hands off or the whole party's gonna be scarred if you go any further."

Their lips had parted during Collins little warning. Mark had his back turned to the crowd and Maureen buried her face in his shirt. Why the heck did they all decide to take a peek in the hallway? Did everyone need to go pee or something?

"Shit. When the hell did they get here?" whispered Maureen.

"What is going on in here, anyway?" asked Mimi. "Mark, don't tell me you just… Oh God, did you just-"

"Dun, dun, dun, dun! Dun, dun, dun duuuunn!" Alex hummed the wedding song loudly, happily conducting an invisible orchestra.

"No, no!" said Mark exasperated. He turned around quickly and saw fourteen pairs of eyes goggling at them. He shook his head, answering their silent questions. "No, I would never. Well, no, not that I wouldn't want to. Well, I…"

"Roger, Mark just proposed!" squealed Mimi. "He and Maureen are getting married!"

"What?" Roger emerged from the crowd with a bread stick in his mouth. "He what?" He looked at Mark surprised.

"No wait you guys," said Maureen trying to explain. She moved in front of him. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I just asked her to move in with me," Mark finished for her.

"Ohhhh," they said in unison. They mumbled their approvals to each other and congratulated them sloppily.

"Wait, move in?" asked Alex. "Again?"

"Yes, again," said Mark.

"Hold on, you didn't ask Roger if it was okay," said Maureen, gesturing to him.

"Oh don't worry about it Maureen, it's fine," said Roger grinning. "We had a nice long discussion about it beforehand."

Maureen smiled. "So I guess I'm moving back in with you guys."

Roger raised his eyebrow and smiled. He chuckled and muttered something under his breath, leading the crowd out of the hallway. Roger could never keep a straight face even if he had it stapled that way.

"I guess we should head back to the party," said Mark to Maureen. They couldn't do anything else bedroom related anyway. Well, they _shouldn't _do anything else. He started to leave but she put a hand on his chest.

"Mark wait," she said. "Did you really mean that?"

"What?" asked Mark.

"That you would want to marry me?" she asked carefully.

"Maureen, there is no one else I would rather be with," he said. He looked into her eyes deeply, and held her hands gently. He just wanted to be honest. He knew it didn't get him anywhere the first time they tried this relationship, but hopefully it would do him some good now. "Yes. I would, I really would."

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. That was harder than he thought. And he wasn't even proposing. He leaned against the wall, eyes still shut. He was sort of afraid that his response would scare her off.

"Good," she said softly. He felt her hand slide on his cheek. He opened his eyes and found hers gazing upon his. "I would want to marry you too." She smiled and he returned it. Honesty did him good this time. "But it doesn't mean we have to get married right away, right?"

"Not right now," he said. That was one thing he was sure of. He kissed her forehead. "Someday. I promise."

"I love you," she said hugging him. "Does that mean we're engaged… or something?"

Mark laughed. She always had to be so technical. Actually, that's me, he thought curiously. Hmm… that's funny. The roles really were reversed. "Unofficially," he answered doubtfully. "I guess. Or a step before that."

She frowned. "In other words, a step before the ring?"

Never mind. The roles weren't reversed.

"You just want to marry me for the ring, don't you?" he asked grinning. She shrugged and looked at him evilly. He picked her up slightly, and pushed her against the wall. He kissed her passionately, following her neck.

"What did I tell you?" Collins voice reentered the scene. Damn him.

"Can I shoot them?" asked Alex, a bit intimidating.

"No!" Maureen said laughing. Mark brought her down and released her. "No. Don't shoot us."

"Yeah, that won't be necessary. I brought this onto myself," said Collins. "I created two monsters. Monsters! Two very horny monsters!""If you made Maureen, can you make me one?" asked Alex.

"Correction Collins, Mark was horny to begin with," said Roger quickly slipping in the hallway, then out. Maureen shot them both a glare and Alex just blew her a kiss. One day, I'm going to kill him, Mark thought to himself. He smiled.

"Come on, Roger wrote me a goodbye song, and I know you don't want to miss that," said Collins grinning. He formed a way for them, making sure they would actually get out of the hallway this time. They headed out, Collins passing them by quickly, and settling everyone down.

"Okay, song time! Roger's going to sing us a little somethin' somethin'," said Collins taking a seat.

"Make sure it's original and not a cover version of Your Eyes," said Maureen rolling her eyes.

"He knows me," said Collins. "Besides if he does, I give Alex permission to shoot him." He signaled to Alex, who nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Considering, I've never heard Your Eyes," said Alex. "But you just give me the signal, and I'll get my rifle ready."

Mark caught Cindy's eye. She looked at him expectedly. "Find a seat, Maureen, I'll be with you in a second." She nodded and found an empty seat between Collins and Mimi.

"Hey little brother," said Cindy approaching him. "That's great news, about you and Maureen. Mazel tov."

"Thanks sis," he said kissing her cheek. "Are you sure you're okay with this? You've been kind of passive all this time."

"Passive?" questioned Cindy. "I was just trying to let you make your own choices. Isn't that what you want?"

He narrowed his eyes for a moment. He knew she didn't mean to be inquiring, but it felt as if a bit of Mom was in her. She was just protective… but she knew he was all grown up, and could take care of himself. She seemed to have noticed the way she was acting.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again, that's all," she said.

Mark nodded, somewhat comforted. "I know. I really love her sis."

She smiled. "I know you do." Rebecca suddenly ran to her mother, a cry trembling on her little lips. She picked her up, trying to calm her down. As she was about to find a seat, she turned to her brother. "It's clear. I can see it in your eyes."

Mark groaned, ignorant for a moment that his sister didn't even know the song. She gave him an awkward look, and he gave her a reassuring one.

"Is someone singing the song?" warned Collins, a bit maniacally. He looked around frantically. "Someone better not be singing the song… Who's doing it? Better not let me hear it. Alex, get ready."

Cindy was about to open her mouth when Mark stopped her. "Don't ask," he said. Maureen stood up for a moment to let him sit. He pulled her onto his lap, enjoying the fragrance of her strawberry scented hair.

"Okay, everyone," said Roger. He was the only one standing. "If Collins can pull himself together…" He picked up his guitar and winked at Adam and Jacob, who were on the floor in front of him. "I'd like to dedicate this song to a wonderful teacher and life-long friend. Prosperity and carpe diem!" He sat down on his chair and positioned the guitar on his thigh.

He strummed a chord. "This is to the great Tom Collins."

The melody sounded familiar as he hummed for the first few moments. Then he began the song, and Mark couldn't help but grin. He had ripped the music off from one of Collins favorite songs from one of Collins favorite musical. I'm Going Home from the weirdest musical, The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"_On the day you went away. Goodbye,_

_was all I had to say. Now I, I…_

_I wish you would come and stay, and try, tra-ha-hi,_

_to smile, while I sit and pray_

_Cause I've got no dough, without you,_

_nowhere to go._

_But, I know. Soon, you'll be coming home._

_Oh, you'll be coming home…_

to spot me again, that is.

_Everywhere else, it ain't the same. Fee-hee-liing_

_like you're always goin' away. Healing _

_slowly, but you're not to blame. Stealing _

_a grasp of hope, a grasp of Coke._

No, I don't mean the drugs, Collins

_Cause there is no family without you,_

_Nothing's free. And we'll pay the price,_

_Until you come home._

_Til you come ho-oh-ome._

_When you're coming home,_

_When finally you'll come home…_

_We'll be able to continue_

_To dream about_

_Santa Fe. _

_Santa Fe's nice, though it's no Rome._

_Soon, you'll dream about your life out_

_in Santa Fe._

_Where you'll finally be at peace_

_and safely home. _

_Whoa-oh-oah, who-oh-oh_

_Ho-oh-ome. _

_You'll be coming home. _

Roger closed the song with a few more soft chords. Mark smiled at him, caressing the side of Maureen's arm. Collins had always wanted to retire there. It was his heaven. Applause rang forth once the song ended, and although Collins was grinning through the humorous remarks, tears began to form behind his eyes.

"Thank you Roger," said Collins, "that was really… wonderful. Man, you don't know how much I'm going to miss all of you. I don't want to leave. We've…" He looked around. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "We've been through hard times, but we helped each other through it. I'll love you, always, all of you." He eyed Roger. "Yes, Davis, that includes YOU."

"You the man, Collins," said Roger. Cheers ensued right after.

"What about me?" asked Alex grinning madly.

"Will someone just… shoot him?" asked Maureen. They laughed. Mark wrapped an arm around her waist.

Alex glared at her, then smiled. He had that mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and that sneaky way he scrunched up his nose. "And a happy birthday to Maureen!" He said, lifting up his glass of champagne.

A chorus of "happy birthday!" boomed from different directions, and Maureen slid back into Mark, somewhat embarrassed. Mark intertwined his fingers with hers.

"How old are you?" asked Alex. "Fifty?"

"Didn't they teach you that you should never ask a lady how old she is?" asked Maureen.

"Maureen, he didn't even get passed the tenth grade," remarked Roger.

"Yet he was in high school for five years," commented Mark, throwing Alex a look. Alex wasn't bright when it came to school, but he was street smart.

"Figures," said Collins. "So now that I'm out of town, Alex, you are free to come back. We go our separate ways, and we may never meet again. But I know one thing. You'll never stop being the same compassionate jerk you took all your life to master." A few giggles arose, but everyone looked at Alex for his comeback.

Surprisingly, he just laughed. "But you still love me right?"

"You bet I do, sweetie pie," replied Collins, puckering his lips at him.

"Careful, man, I got a kid!" said Alex pointing his index at him.

"Yeah, the kid will need a father," said Maureen, pushing Collins back a bit so he could relax.

"Speaking of Jacob," said Roger, "Who wants to hear him play?"

A few eager mutters encouraged the offer. Mark started to clap and Alex whistled, giving his son a nice pat on the head.

"Please tell us you didn't teach him to play Your Eyes," said Mimi.

"Or Musetta's Waltz," seconded Maureen.

"No," said Roger sounding a bit offended. He tilted to Jacob who climbed up Roger's chair. "Ex the Musetta's Waltz." They laughed. Of course, Roger would teach him the tune. "Let's play your second song. You see," he turned to the audience, "that's why I taught him more than one song."

People laughed, but Mimi shook her head at his mock stupidity. She had a grin, however, gave him a playful look.

"Smart move, genius," said Mark to Roger, humoring him.

"SOMEONE finished high school," teased Alex. People suddenly shushed him, which Mark thought was funny. He made a remark and it was alright, but when Alex butted in, people told him to shove it. Alex shrunk back in his seat, beaming.

"Presenting Jacob Meyers doing Silent Night," announced Roger.

"In the middle of the year?" asked Alex.

"YES in the middle of the year. Silent Night," said Roger.

"Remind me. Is this the song about Jesus?" asked Mark jokingly. Only Collins laughed, shaking his head. He forgot only a few knew he was Jewish. Roger glowered at him, then turned to Jacob who was all ready to go. Roger handed him another guitar, a smaller one, and helped him positioned it. Jacob looked adorable. Roger took his own guitar to play the background chords.

"Ready?" Roger asked him softly. Jacob nodded. "One, two, three…" They started playing with Jacob strumming the simple chords. It was so cute. The song was a bit slow, but it was only because the kid's fingers were so small. Otherwise, he didn't miss a note. Once they were finished, a standing ovation came immediately afterward.

"That is amazing," said Maureen, after they settled. "We should send him to those competitions. He's gonna be a big star someday."

"Yeah, well he is my son," gloated Alex, as Jacob ran over to give him a hug. He whispered "great job" to his kid. "But I think we can wait on it." Alex really loved his kid, Mark knew. His voice was always different with him. Roger and Collins got up to congratulate Jacob as well.

Maureen leaned over to Mark. "You know this thing about 'like father like son'?" she whispered. "I think someone got it all wrong in this case because the boy's cute!"

Mark laughed. "Look at him though. He loves the kid to death." They watched as Alex picked him up and swung him around. He may never figure out Alex Meyers.

"He's surprisingly good with that," observed Maureen. "I mean I would never have imagined someone like Alex to be a good dad. My image of the ideal dad is different. It would be someone like… like…" Her hair swayed as she turned her head to him, "like you." He smiled and she turned back around to lay her head on his chest. He wanted to laugh, remembering the cussing fiasco earlier.

Roger stood up and started to approach the couple. "Maureen, make yourself useful and stand next to Collins. Mark?" He handed him a disposable camera. "Do you mind?" He grinned. Of course, he didn't mind.

"It'll be my pleasure," he said.

"Do I really need to stand aside? I'm good and comfortable right where I am," pouted Maureen. Mark tickled her sides and she giggled, and sprung up.

"Sure, let's have the great Mark Cohen take the picture!" said Mimi bowing, as if to praise him.

"He's the best photographer here," said Roger.

"And the cheapest," said Collins.

"May I remind you that you don't pay me a penny?" asked Mark standing up. "And throwing pieces of bread at me at the park as if I was some sort of pigeon does NOT count." He threw a look at Alex who quickly looked at the ceiling. He didn't even want to think about that time.

"Do you want to take the photo or not?" asked Roger.

"I do, don't be in such a hurry," said Mark laughing.

"Hey, wait a minute, Marky, you HAVE to be in this photo," pleaded Maureen.

"That's okay, guys, give me the camera," said Cindy walking to Mark. Mark raised his eyebrows, uncertain if he should give it to her. He would just feel a lot better if he took the picture.

"Come on Mark," she said sticking her hand out, "Pretend it runs in the family. Don't make me force you."

"I don't know…" he said hesitantly.

"Well if Mark's not in the picture then neither am I," said Maureen stubbornly.

"The girl's got a point, I want to remember all of you," said Collins. "Mark, give the camera to your sister, just this once."

Everyone looked at him anxiously. I know what they're all thinking, thought Mark, will the great Photographer give up his camera? He sighed. It _was _for Collins. He just loved what he did for a living.

"All right," he said handing her the disposable. "But I'm taking the next one."

"Good God, you and your camera," said Alex.

"Yeah, we'll see about that. Now come here," said Maureen pulling his arm. She dragged him over near the center where the television was right behind them. Collins was in the middle with Mimi wrapping her arms around his waist, and pressing her cheek on his chest. Roger was beside her, his hand resting on Collins' shoulder. On the other side of Collins was Mark, putting a hand on his back. Maureen was beside him, snaking an arm around his waist.

Mark quickly glanced at Collins. He had the brightest smile on. Even though he was leaving, maybe even for good, he never looked happier. This job could mean a lot to him, to all of them. The faces of the crowd chuckled and glowed at the group of friends who were fidgeting around, excited about their photo. Mark looked at Alex who set down his kid and put on a small smile when they met eyes. He was once a part of this group. But, things changed. Somehow, Mimi replaced his spot. No. No, wait, she replaced April. Something felt very wrong as he stared at Alex, who was watching them from a distance. He had his arms crossed, but he was still smiling. His eyes gleamed, telling a story they had forgotten long ago. He didn't know how, but Mark knew Alex missed being with them. He missed being a part of a friendship he had always been loyal to.

"You're thinking it too, huh?" whispered Collins. Mark looked at him. He, too, was staring at Alex. "Alex, come here."

"What?" he asked.

"Come here, you gotta be in this photo," said Collins. "A picture's only worth a thousand words, but with you, they're worth a lot more."

Alex smiled. He shook his head. "I don't know. This is your guys' thing."

"I want to remember you too, Alex," said Collins. Mark nodded. He made room for him beside Collins. Alex was reluctant at first, but soon even Roger was yelling at him to get over here. He ran next to Mark and wrapped his arm around him. He had his elbow on Collins' arm and grinned wildly.

"Someone's ready for his close-up," remarked Collins jokingly.

"Collins, get your hand off my ass this minute!" squealed Mimi.

"Yes, Collins, get your hand off her ass this minute!" said Roger.

"Sorry, wrong hand. Thought it was Alex," apologized Collins.

"Collins, don't you dare," warned Alex, trying to keep his best smile on.

"Someone sounds frightened…" said Roger.

"What's the matter, sweetie pie?" asked Collins, "You look so hot in those jeans."

"Mark!" said Alex.

"What?" Mark asked.

"Do something," he claimed.

"He's leaving tonight, let him have his fun," Mark replied.

"What?" inquired Alex.

"SMILE!" yelled Cindy through the noise. Everyone paused and looked forward, smiling brightly.

"Sis?" asked Mark through his teeth.

"What is it Mark?" asked Cindy, "Is the angle of the camera improperly positioned so that the perpendicular angle reflects the sunlight, which causes a white flash over the photo? Or am I not using the rule of thirds or something?"

"Can you speak in vernacular terms please?" asked Alex. They stared at him.

"Take off the lens," said Mark once he passed one of Alex's rare intelligent moments.

"Oh." Everyone laughed as she removed the lens. "Alright. One, two, three!" A flash blinded them. "That's it!"

"One, two, three, how unoriginal," commented Alex, teasingly. Cindy gave him a look and smiled. She complimented him about his son and they began to talk. They took a few more photos, but for some reason, they wouldn't give him the camera. Even when he wasn't in the picture, they wouldn't hand it over. Collins was the star of the night, taking some more photos with his other friends. Maureen kept close by, but she also hung around Mimi. As they continued their photo shoot, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around.

"Do you have a minute?" asked Alex.

"Sure," said Mark. They walked away from the crowd near the front door. "What's up?"

"How was the present for Maureen?"

Ah, he should have known. "Good, it was good." He wanted to laugh, but he kept his eyes down.

"Has she, um… tried it on?" said Alex, pushing him for more information.

"She might have, to see if it… you know, fits."

"She packs a lot in front. So, _does _it fit?" Mark gave him a look and smiled mischievously. He was getting slightly embarrassed, and blushed a bit. Alex grinned. "Marky, you're killing me here. What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing you'd be interested in," he said, but he had to walk away to keep from blushing some more.

"That's a damn lie, and I know it!" he said. "And I was going to encourage that you shoot the last photo."

"Wait-" started Mark, but drew back. Alex shrugged as Collins yelled "last photo!" and everyone began to chatter.

"Come on, give me the courtesy of shooting the last picture, at least!" begged Mark to Collins.

"Just give him the camera before he cries," said Roger.

"No let Collins take it," said Maureen trying to pull him away again. Collins grinned at Mark, who tried to grab it from him. Collins was definitely much taller than him, and he tried to hop around and reach for it, but Collins kept it in the air.

"Is that all you got?" he asked, laughing, raising it higher. Mark stopped. He was clearly making a fool out of himself.

"Give up, let him take it," said Maureen.

"But I've got this perfect photo for you and him only!"

"But I want the perfect photo with you." She turned to Collins. "No offense, Collins."

"None taken," he said. "Besides, I would really like a photo with the couple I've been trying to get back together for so long."

Mark sighed, but agreed. He wrapped his arms around Maureen's waist, who in turn wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her face gently against his cheek. Now he could definitely smell the sweet aroma from her straight hair flowing beside him. She looked at the camera deviously, while he had a simple curl upon his lips.

"Alex, out of the way," said Collins, waving his hand.

"Sorry," he said and moved away. Mark kissed her neck lightly and bit the strap of her black tank top. She giggled. He fiddled with the back of her long white skirt, which was layered unevenly, like a Renaissance gown.

"Look here, Mark," called Collins. Mark turned and smiled again. Flash.

"Was it so bad to be on the other side for a change?" asked Maureen.

"We'll see when the photo comes out," said Mark. Suddenly, a guitar thrust in front of him. Roger smiled. He took the instrument slowly. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"I want you to wax it," replied Roger rolling his eyes. "You know what you gotta do." Mark nodded.

"WHOA, wait, he plays the guitar?" asked Alex sitting on the ground beside the other kids.

"And he sings," said Roger sitting beside Mimi. Everyone started taking their seats again.

"Wait a minute," said Alex. "The last time I heard Mark sing… not pretty. Let's just say I was shivering for a week."

"Then why didn't you just put on a sweater?" asked Roger. Everyone laughed.

"Like you can sing any better, Alex," said Maureen.

"Hey, I'm a good singer," said Alex, "or did you forget, I use to be in Roger's band?"

"You were the drummer," said Mark sitting and putting the guitar on his lap.

"Yeah, you banged drums throughout the songs," agreed Maureen.

"And drummers can't sing?" asked Alex. Mark shook his head. Alex smiled slowly. "Fine then, Romeo. Let's hear it."

"Romeo? How far did you get in that play?" asked Mark.

"It's a play?"

Everyone laughed again and Maureen rolled her eyes. "We already got that you didn't get passed the tenth grade, Alex, you don't need to brag about it."

"Come on, Mark, let's hear it," said Mimi.

Mark nodded again. He had been waiting to play this song for a while and since Roger interrupted him before, this was a way to play it through without any interruptions. Besides, it was the last part to Maureen's birthday surprises. He arched the guitar and strummed a few chords, checking if it was in-tune, and trying to grab a few moments to settle his nerves.

"BRAVISSIMO!" yelled Alex, clapping enthusiastically.

"God, Alex, you're such an ass, have some respect," said Roger.

He grinned and sat back down, his son plopping on his lap. Mark continued to warm up, and then waited a few seconds before starting. All that time, he kept his eyes on Maureen.

"_I was back, behind the shadows_

_trying hard to hide from you_

_when a light beneath the stage filtered through_

_And you appeared beneath the light_

_and my world was on the edge_

_until those memories came back with thoughts of you_

_And I wished for a chance to hold you_

_A chance to live again_

_A chance to breathe and evade the end_

_I couldn't stop from wishing_

_the lights shining above you_

_how I longed for a chance to say I love you once again_

_And every moment, I prayed _

_that someday you'd be back into my world,_

_back into my life._

_And every second, I knew _

_that if I held that much longer you'd be_

_back into my life._

_There isn't a time set for us_

_No one gave us that chance to try_

_No one gave us a chance to take on flight_

_But as long we held on_

_As long as we held strong_

_We would forever be in that spotlight_

_Together, you and me._

_Me and..._

_You_

_Back into my life_."

He ended the song and he wasn't sure how he sounded. When he was the center of attention, it was difficult to listen to himself sing. All he could concentrate on were the notes. There was silence for a second, the most uncomfortable silence he had ever experienced. I suck, I suck, I suck, he thought hopelessly. Then a roar of applause echoed the house. Mark grinned widely and put the guitar down. Whew. He caught a glimpse of Maureen sitting there silently. He frowned a bit, but smiled again as the praise rolled in.

"That was… Mark, I never would have figured!" said Collins. "Leave the camera and start a new career!"

"Now, I'm the worst singer of the group. Great job Mark," said Mimi.

"Mark, you can join my band," said Roger. "Every band needs some type of geek." Everyone laughed.

"Thanks a lot you guys," said Mark bashfully. Alex looked at him mysteriously. He expected a rotten comment.

"You rock hard Mark," he said.

"Even when we were kids, you wouldn't sing," said Cindy hugging him. "Not even in the shower! You should have brought your camera." Alex handed him an ice tea and gestured to Maureen, who was standing still sitting in her seat. Mark said a quick thanks to Alex and walked over to her. He handed her the drink. "Tea?"

"Thanks," she said smiling. She took a sip and placed it on a nearby table. She looked at him for a second. Mark began to worry that there was something wrong. She then jumped up and hugged him tightly. Mark smiled and embraced her back. Oh good, he thought. Everything was okay.

"Here we go again," said Roger.

"Isn't that sweet?" said Alex, who then warned Collins. "Don't you even think about it, mister."

"Does this mean you liked it?" asked Mark pulling apart, looking at her softly.

"What do you think?" she asked. He didn't really know what to think. Girls were so confusing.

"You hated it, and I was off-tune," he replied.

She nodded carefully. "Yeah, that's right, you WERE off-tune." Tears began to fall from her eyes. Mark could feel the soft beating of her heart on his chest. It was beating faster and faster.

"What is it?" he asked softly, pulling her closer.

"I love you so much," she whispered so softly that it was only to him. She tiptoed and kissed him tenderly. Mark could taste the salt from her tears. He wiped them away gently.

"Maureen, I love you too," he said.

"Announcement everyone!" said Roger.

"Now what?" asked Collins.

"You'll see," said Mark grinning.

"Hey, how is it that you know about it?" asked Maureen, taking her seat on his lap as soon as he hit the cushion.

"I know everything," said Mark, kissing her once more.

"Everyone please take a seat," said Roger, through the chitchats.

"Try this," said Alex with a spoon in his mouth, holding up his champagne glass. "Take the silverware." Roger took the spoon from his mouth and tapped the glass. It made a loud clinging noise and everyone sat down again.

"Thanks Alex," Roger said shoving the spoon back into his friend's mouth. Alex muffled a quick you're welcome, and sat down. "I have some important news," he continued, taking Mimi's hand.

"What's going on?" asked Maureen to Mark.

"Shhh," he said.

"I would like to take this opportunity to say that there is no other girl I would rather spend a lifetime with than with Miss Mimi Marquez," said Roger.

A roomful of "awws" resonated from the room. Mimi stared at him wide-eyed, almost shocked. Maureen turned her head to Mark giving him a "is this what I think it is?" look. Mark merely smiled and looked back at Roger.

"When Mimi was in the hospital, I prayed to God to take me instead. A life really isn't worth living without you, Mimi," he said, squeezing her hand. "I'm so happy that I'm standing beside you here right now." She smiled, but bit her lip in embarrassment. Roger bended over on one knee to do the traditional proposal. "Mimi, will you marry me?"

Silence. There wasn't a response for the longest time. No one made a sound. It was as if time froze. Mimi looked at him silently, and Mark feared that the worst thing that could ever happen to Roger was actually happening.

"No," she said silently. She turned away. It must have been unbearable for her to meet his eyes. And it was.

Roger stared at her with a horrified look in his eyes. The prominent hurt showed flawlessly, as the rejection sunk in. He had a heartbroken expression on, still trying to devour what she had just said. "No?" he said croakily. She turned slowly and shook her head, remorsefully.

"What do you mean… no?" asked Collins, quietly.

"I mean… no…" she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. Mark wasn't sure what to do. He was so confident that Mimi would say yes. He was almost positive that she would accept.

"No?" asked Mark.

"Mimi… no?" asked Maureen, shocked herself.

"Boy, this is a fun game," whispered Alex.

Roger stood up and looked at her, moving a bit closer. "Why?"

"I… I'm sorry, Roger, I just… can't," said Mimi bursting into a new waterfall of tears. She ran into the hallway, into Maureen's bedroom. A door slammed shut.

"Shit, what just happened?" whispered Maureen, particularly to Mark.

Mark couldn't believe this was happening. "Mimi Marquez just turned down Roger Davis." It was unbelievable. Maureen scooted so Mark could get up. "Roger."

But he quickly glanced at Mark and left hastily out the front door. Alex approached Mark, looking at him seriously in the eyes. He, too, remembered how hurt Roger was the last time a girl rejected him so. Only that time, she committed suicide.

The room remained silent. Mark could only think of one thing, and it was a question he didn't know the answer to. What happens when the perfect couple does fall apart? Mark rested his forehead on Maureen's back, wrapping his arms around her, clueless of what was to happen next.

The End


End file.
